


It's a Supernatural Life

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, F/M, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 17:03:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 32,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3389486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four years ago on April 5th, 2010, Calypso's life drastically changed when a demon breaks into her house and kills her younger sister while her parents were on vacation. That's also the night when Callie meets the Winchester boys, and the night when she decides to become a hunter. (This is an AU that only follows the plot of season 9 when I want it to. A few spoilers for season 9 are present.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I'm woken suddenly by a scream. It's a scream that I would know anywhere, one that makes my heart twist in my chest, one that makes me run up the stairs in record time, only to hear a second scream cut short halfway up. It was my sister, Ellie, and I knew something was horribly wrong. 

I stop in front of her door, only to see a familiar, yellow-eyed man standing over what's left of my sister, his hands coated in her blood. I don't know who or what this man is, or why he's familiar, but in that moment, I don't care. He turns towards me, a predatory smile lighting up his face. "I was wondering if you would wake up so we can play," he hisses, his voice sending shivers up my spine. I know instinctively that this man is a monster. 

"Who are you?" I ask, refusing to look at the mangled corpse of my sister, or the blood spattering the walls. My voice shakes, but I don't care. "My name is Azazel, sweetheart," his murmurs, his voice skating across my skin. That name sounds really familiar, but I can't place it. 

Suddenly, he stiffens, his head sweeping up as he sniffs the air. "Oh, how lovely, the Winchesters are here to join us," he says, almost to himself. I start to back away when he leaps at me, slamming me against the wall. "Might as well have fun now," he says, dragging a knife blade across my skin. I can't help myself; I scream. The skin on my wrist splits open under the knife edge, blood spilling out onto the floor below. 

Two men run up the stairs, one taller than the other. "Yellow-eyes," the shorter one snarls, and in his eyes are such a hatred that I can't even begin to comphrend. The demon turns away from me, dropping the knife. "Little Dean Winchester," he sneers, then throws his arms and head back as black smoke explodes from his mouth. I clutch at my wrist, trying to put pressure on it.

The taller man pushes past Dean, steps over the body on the floor, and kneels down next to me. I look up at him, terror painted onto my face. "We're not going to hurt you," he says softly. "My name is Sam Winchester, and that's my brother Dean," he murmurms. Dean disappears into the bathroom and comes back out with bandages, after a few minutes of rummaging around. Silently, Sam takes it from him and bandages my wrist, and I'm breathing heavy and trying not to cry, because I was always taught that crying is a weakness, and that I'm not weak. 

"We should take her with us, Sam," Dean says quietly. Sam looks up at his brother, then slowly nods. "Do you feel strong enough to walk?" he asks me. "I'll manage," I breathe, forcing myself to stand up even though my legs are numb. I pitch forward and Dean catches me. "Whoa, easy there. You're in shock. It'll be all right though, my brother and I, we'll take care of you." 

Just then, we hear police sirens in the distance. "Son of a bitch!" Dean curses as Sam picks me up like I weigh nothing, bundling me against his chest, and then going quickly down the stairs. Dean stays behind, and after looking over Sam's shoulder for a second, I realize that he's wiping down everything he touched to get rid of the fingerprints.

I close my eyes and count to ten, praying this is all some terrible dream. But when I open them again, Sam's bursting out of the open door and rushing to a black car that's sitting on the curb. Moments later, Dean comes out as well, jumping into the driver's seat as Sam gets me settled in the back. Then Sam shuts the door and gets in the passenger seat. I look back at the house, feeling like I'll never see it again. 

"What's your name?" Sam asks after we're a few miles away from the house. "Calypso," I mutter, staring out the window. "Pretty name," Dean says. Sam turns around in his seat to look at me. "We're going to keep you safe, Calypso. See, my brother and I, we hunt demons and other monsters. We kill them. They're afraid of us." His voice is soft and slightly condescending, a voice you'd use for comforting a child after a nightmare. 

"I'm not five, you know," I remark, looking at them. "I'm not going to break. Well, okay, maybe. But you don't have to talk to me in that tone of voice. Just let me break down in a few hours when all this hits, and then let me shove it under the rug." Dean lets out a snort. "Fine. We'll treat you like one of us," he says, then reaches out and flips on the radio. It's on my favorite classical rock station, and my favorite song fills the car, making all this slightly more bearable as I lean my head back against the seat, telling myself to just hang in there until dawn.


	2. We Need to Talk

pulled up next to the bunker around one in the morning. I was covered in blood, and ached all over. Somehow, I managed to make it inside, where Dean was sitting at the table on his laptop. He looked up when he saw me, a grin on his face, which quickly dropped when he noticed how blood-covered I was. 

"Are you all right?" he asks, half-way standing. "Yeah, most of it's not my blood," I say, setting my bag on the floor. "I'm gonna go take a shower," I mumble before escaping to my bathroom. Lately, most of my encounters with Dean have been a little awkward because I can tell just how much he blames himself for Kevin's death, but neither of us knows how to express any of our feelings. 

It takes me half an hour to shower and get all the grime off, which is one of the longest showers I've had in four years. Once I'm out I pull on a silk nightgown. I'm exhausted, but I know that Dean's worried about me, so I go back to the living room and flop down on one of the couches. He moves to sit next to me, and I roll onto my back and grin up at him. 

"See, I've only got a few scratches, and that's because I lost my footing," I say. He closes his eyes briefly in relief and I know that he was really worried about me. "I bet you're tired, Callie," he mumbles. I close my eyes and nod, then feel him pick me up. My eyes snap open and I look up at him in surprise. He smiles down at me, and after a moment, I curl up against him and let him carry me to bed. 

He makes sure I'm comfortable before rising up, but I sit up slightly. He turns back to me, a puzzled look on his face. "Stay?" I ask him. He hesitates before slipping into the bed with me. "All right, all right," he grumbles. I curl up against him and smile against his chest. "Nightmares?" he asks, after a few heartbeats. I nod, then feel him kiss my forehead. "I'm here now," he whispers, as I let my eyes fall shut. Within minutes, I'm asleep. 

***

When I wake up, Dean's clinging to me, and still asleep. I relax against him, noting how peaceful he looks. We've shared beds before, always in a nonsexual way. After that night where I first met them, I've always had nightmares. We tried everything we could, but only the prescnese of someone else could stop them. 

I know that Dean has nightmares too, even though he won't admit it, and I know that he's glad to crawl into bed with me, because at least that mean's he's not alone. I feel him stir beside me and glance over at him just in time to see his eyes blink open. He smiles at me. "Morning, sunshine," I say quietly. "Morning," he replies, and together we roll out of bed. "You sure those scratches are nothing?" he asks, his voice still heavy with sleep. "I'm fine," I say, smiling at him. "You always were protective," I mumble. "What was that?" he asks, though I know damn well that he heard me. I give him a sweet smile. "Nothing."

He leaves my room, presumably to go get dressed, and I pull on some shorts and a tank top, going to the kitchen to rummage for breakfast. I'm starving, I haven't eaten in about twenty-four hours. Sam walks in from his room, his hair still rumpled from sleep. He leans in the doorway and I glance over at him. "Want me to make you something to?" He nods. "I see you're back," he says, after a small silence. "I am," I say, deciding to make a typical breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast. 

"I need to talk to you. I mean, I get it if now's not a good time," he started. "Now's a great time. Spit it out," I say, pausing to glance at him quickly. "Did you know about Dean letting Gadreel possess me?" he finally asks. I set the box of eggs down and turn to him. "I knew about it, and I encouraged it, because I thought it was Ezekiel, and you were dying. Say whatever you want about how you wouldn't do the same thing if Dean was dying, but you would have. Remember when you wasted the Colt's bullets trying to trade places with him when he was in Hell?" I say, sharply. He flinches. "Look, you don't know what it's like to be possesed," he snaps, and I walk towards him. Although he's a good two feet taller than me, he looks intimidated. "Oh, but I do. I've been possessed before, just like we all have. I know how you aren't able to control your own body, make your own choices, but goddammit, Sam, you were dying! We couldn't lose you, so, yeah, it might have been selfish of us to trick you into letting Gadreel in. But you would've done the same," I say, my voice loosing all of it's anger as I reach up and brush his hair back. 

"Look, we're both sorry. We get it. We messed up. But we all need to talk about it. Together. And soon. Because if we don't deal with this, all of us are just going to stay upset and hurt and one day it's going to kill one or all of us," I whisper. I reach up and wrap my arms around him, pulling him down in a hug. We stay like that for a moment, and I can feel how hurt he is about this. "This would be a lot easier if you weren't so tall," I murmured in his ear, causing him to chuckle a little. I pull back, letting him back up. "Sometime today, we all need to work through our issues," I repeat, looking him in the eyes. "I can feel how hurt you are right now. I can feel your anger and all the other emotions that I can't even name swirling around inside of you, and I know you don't want to talk about it, and I know it's hard to talk about this stuff, for all of us, but Sam, I can't deal with everyone being pissy. I want to work through this." 

He grabs me and lifts me up onto the counter, where he's only slightly taller than me. "We do need to work through it," he admits. "Good," I say, smiling. Just then, he leans down, and I think he's going to kiss me, but he stops just short of doing so, causing my breath to catch in my throat. "Oh, so I do have that effect on you?" I groan. "You ass," I say, closing my eyes. "You absolute ass." I can feel his smile as leans slightly closer. "If you admit you want it, you can have it," he taunts. I open my eyes, glancing up at the ceiling. "What if I don't want it?" I ask as he pulls away, finally giving me some space. "I know you do." I smirk at him. "I'm sorry, I thought it was your brother who slept in the same bed as me last night," I say. He rolls his eyes. "Oh, please. That was only because I wasn't awake." I grin and slip off the counter, even though that puts me standing really close to Sam. "Do you want breakfast or not?" I ask, having effectively shattered the moment. We may need to talk about Gadreel and Kevin, but I don't need to devlop feelings for Sam. It'd just mess everything up. 

***

Around noon, we've all just congragted in the library, with me somehow ending up at the head of the table. "We need to talk," I say. Dean's head flies up. "Oh, no, princess, I'm not-" I glare at him until he trails off. "We need to talk about Gadreel. Sam's upset. You're upset. I'm upset. I know you hate chick-flick moments, Dean, but it's time to man-up. We're going to attempt to fix this because we need to." Dean remains silent, which is good. I look pointedly at Sam, as a signal for him to start. He clears his throat. 

"Well, I'm pissed off. I'm not going to lie about that. I was ready to die, and you two wouldn't let me. You both know how I feel about being possessed. I mean, hell, we kill the things that possess people," he says, and I can feel the effort he makes to keep his voice calm. I'm proud of him. "Well," Dean says, also making an effort to keep his voice calm and steady, "Callie and I both needed you. We still need you. Truth is, we've never been able to let the other one die. We've always done whatever we could to save you. I figured, if it ever got bad enough, I could tell you you had an angel inside of you and you could force him out. I didn't know it was Gadreel, I thought it was Ezekiel. We messed up, but it was my idea, and I'm sorry. But I wasn't ready to lose you, and I didn't think you were really ready to go." 

"Sam, we are both so, so sorry for what we did. And we both know that 'sorry' isn't a magical cure-all for this situation. I know you need time. But you also need to build up some trust with us again. We're hunters. One day soon we're going to have to work a case together. And for us to do that, we're going to have to trust each other." Sam and Dean both nod. "You know what? No more lies or secrets," Dean says, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "It's never worked out for us in the past, no matter how much good we thought we were doing by keepin' 'em." I nod my agreement, my focus on Dean. 

"Okay," Sam says, giving us a small smile. Dean gives him a slight one in return, but I'm smiling so big it hurts the muscles in my face. We're finally working through some things. "There's another issue I want to touch on," I say, glancing between the two of them. "And that's about Kevin. Neither of you are responsible for his death. Gadreel is. Yeah, Dean, before you can say anything, he didn't chose this life. But God made him a prophet, so it was in the job description. Sam, Gadreel was using you as a vessel. You had no control. It wasn't you who killed him." I'm met with silence from both of them. "I think we're done for the day," they say, almost at exactly the same time. I nod. I know they'll keep blaming themselves, and I know I won't be able to stop it, and that's why I'm anxious to get out on another hunt.

Being an empath is hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I wrote this fanfiction a long time ago. I just transferring it over here from my Wattpad account now, with no editing. This is just a note saying that while I'd had all the intentions of using the empath thing in the story, it didn't work out that way. Sorry about that.


	3. Destiel Becomes Canon

That night, I pointedly slept on my own. Dean wanted to sit up and drink, and I'd be damned if I slept in the same bed as Sam after whatever the hell had passed between us that morning. Although, if I let myself be honest, I wanted to sleep cuddled up to him. I wanted to wake up in the morning and kiss him, and I didn't need any of that, because things were complicated enough in the bunker. 

When I got up, Dean and fallen asleep on the couch. I knew that he was a deep sleeper, and I knew I was strong enough to carry him, so I picked him, with a little difficulty, and carried him to his bed. I lay him down as gently as I could. He grunted, but didn't wake up, and I made my way back to the kitchen, still in my nightgown. I wasn't all that hungry yet, so I sat down at the table, pulling my laptop to me, and began to look for another case. Like I said, I was anxious to get out of the bunker.

I heard footsteps and glanced up as Sam rounded the doorway. Suddenly, I felt exposed, like my nightgown was showing way too much. "Hungry?" he asked, making his way to the kitchen. "Not yet," I reply, closing the window and shutting my laptop. I don't know why I didn't want him to see what I was looking at; I hadn't found anything. "Were you looking for another case already?" he asked, walking back with two beers, passing me one. I took it, shrugging. "I'm an empath. Being around anybody is difficult because I don't know if the emotions I feel are mine or not." A frown flitted across his face briefly before disappearing. "I could distract you," he whispered, leaning towards me. "But only if you admit you want it." 

This had become a game of cat and mouse for us. He knew, just like I did, that I wanted him. I knew he wanted me. But both of us were too stubborn to outright admit it, so this was a thing that just kinda happened between us. Another part of me didn't want anything to happen between us, because it'd fuck everything up. I don't want that, not when we're recovering from what just happened. 

I smirk at him. "You wish, Winchester," I say, scooting my chair back and propping my legs up on the table. My nightgown slid down my thighs a little farther, almost flashing Sam my underwear. I pulled it back down. "I could do more than wish," he teased, reaching down and toying with the hem of my gown. I sucked in my breath. "Really, Sam, where's your integrity?" I asked, my breathing quick and uneven. He grinned at me. "There's something about you that makes it disappear," he fired back. 

I leaned my head back against the chair. I wasn't a virgin, not by a long shot, I knew how this stuff worked, and right then, I felt desire working up in me. I forced myself to push his hand away. "If I were to let you continue, who says it would mean anything? You're talking to a girl who's hired female prositutions just for help getting off," I say slowly. I refuse to glance at him, because I can feel the knowing roll off him in waves. He knows I want to have sex with him. He knows I want to do a lot more with him. And he's a fucking prick about it. 

I get up and go to the kitchen, thanking God when Sam stays in the kitchen. I'm not all that hungry, but I fix myself a bowl of fresh fruit anyways, leaning against the counter to eat it. God, he messes with my head. I'm a hunter, I shouldn't let something like that happen. My head needs to stay clear so I can fight and kill whatever I need to. 

I finish the bowl of fruit and leave it in the sink, and when I walk out, he's gone. I can hear the television going in the living room, so I slip past and go to my room, grabbing a change of clothes and taking a quick shower. When I get out, I pull on the over-sized, once-a-t-shirt tank top and the pair of skinny jeans I'd grabbed before drying my hair. I check to make sure the top covers my bra on the sides, then I walk out of my room and join Sam in the living room, sitting in the armchair rather than sitting with him on the couch. 

I don't pay attention to whatever's on, I just know from a few fleeting impressions that it's something to do with murder, because there was a lot of blood. When Sam gets up at the end to go throw his beer away, I get up too. I don't anything to do, and I'm pretty restless. I'm walking into the dining room when Castiel appears in front of me, his trenchcoat swirling around him. I stop short, nearly walking into him, he appeared so close. "Cas, hey," I say, giving him a bright smile. He smiles back. "It's good to see you back here, Callie," he replies, backing up a few steps to give me some space, and I'm grateful for that. 

"How did your most recent hunt go?" he inquires, moving to sit down at the table. I join him, sitting on the table rather than in a chair, letting my feet rest in the chair next to him. "It went well." He nods, and I almost wince at how awkward the silence that follows is. "So, here for any particular reason?" I ask. He gives me a small, almost ashamed, smile. "I was actually wanting Dean," he admits, and I remember Dean telling me something about him and Cas, being, well, together. I grin. 

"He's in his room." Cas stands, giving me another smile. "Thanks, Callie." He walks out, and I stay sitting on the table, pulling my laptop towards me again and beginning to search. About twenty minutes later, when I get up to go to the bathroom, and pass by Dean's room, I can hear the bed slamming into the wall. It doesn't take a genuis to figure out that they're having sex, and I hurry past, using the bathroom quickly. It was only a matter of time for them to finally fuck, I mean, Dean had been eye-fucking the angel ever since I could remember. I hoped it lasted a while. 

I walk back to the kitchen, pretending not to hear the sex noises coming from their room, only to find Sam on my laptop. "Hey, I found a case," he says, looking up and grinning. "What is it?" I ask, sitting down next to him and leaning over to look at what he's got pulled up. "Maybe a werewolf. If you gear up, we can leave after lunch." I turn to look at him. "We?" I ask sweetly. He nods. "Yeah. We." I shake my head. "I'm capable of dealing with a werewolf on my own." 

"So am I. I'm the one who found the case you've been looking for, though, so it's only fair that I go too. Plus, you might get hurt and need some help. It is a werewolf, after all." I roll my eyes, knowing he's right. "Fine. But I get to drive." He grins. "Fine by me." I sigh. "Someone needs to tell Dean, but I don't think now's the best time." Sam chuckles. "You heard them too?" I give him a half smile, my stomach clenching at the thought of being alone with him long enough to hunt down a werewolf. "Of course. Where's the case at?" I ask. 

"Georgia," he replies. Oh, great. That's a long drive away, and I'm going to be spending it alone with the one person I shouldn't be.


	4. The Start of a Very Long Roadtrip

After we'd packed, we decided to get lunch on the road, since Dean and Cas were still going at it. I loaded up my car. Dean had stolen one for me a couple years ago, gotten a new liscense plate for it, and a new paint job, changing the color of it from purple to dark blue, as per my request. It was a small Volkswagon bug, a fairly new model from what Dean said. I didn't have any experiance with cars, though, so I couldn't say the first thing about it. 

I hated riding with Sam because he didn't like my music, and I, unlike Dean, didn't feel totally comfortable forcing people to listen to what I wanted, so I usually let them listen to whatever shitty music they wanted. This time, though, he surprised me. We'd gotten in, and gotten halfway to the nearest fast food place when he spoke. 

"What's that one band that you really like? The one that you played the last time we went somewhere together?" he asks. I have to think for a minute, remember when that last time was. "My Chemical Romance, I think," I say. He nods. "Yeah, that sounds right. Can you play them?" he asks. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, surprised. "You really wanna listen to them?" I ask, disbelief coloring my voice. He nods. "Yeah, I've grown to like them." I smile slightly. "Well, I gotta keep my eyes on the road. All my CD's are in the glove box. If there's anything else you wanna listen to in there, feel free to play it." He nods and starts rummaging through it. The CD he picks isn't the My Chemical Romance one I have, but rather Fall Out Boy's "Save Rock and Roll." He keeps the volume at a decent level, and I pull in to the McDonald's parking lot. 

"What do you want, and I'll go in and get it?" I ask, unbuckling, my hand on the door. "I'll have whatever you get," he says. I nod, we usually have similiar food tastes. I get out and go in, wrapping my jacket tightly around me, a thing I've always done when I'm nervous. I walk inside, and it's fairly empty. No one's waiting in line. I step up to the counter and order two Big Macs with orders of fries, and two large sweet teas to drink, and pay. I don't have to wait long, and when they deliver it to the counter, I grab it and practically run out to the car, even though I'm not all that anxious to return to it. 

When I slid in, Sam grins at me. "I see you didn't run away," he remarks. I roll my eyes. "Oi, watch it. You're in my car." He chuckles, and I can't help but grin too. I pass him his food and pull out before starting to eat mine. "You know, we could have sat in the parking lot and eaten," he says. "We could have, but we aren't," I say, giving him a smirk. He laughs and reaches out, turning the music up. "I'll let you eat in peace, then."

***

We drive until around 9:30 that night, and by then both of us are too tired to keep going, so I pull into the parking lot of the nearest hotel. "I'll get a room," Sam mumbled, slipping out of the car. I stretched, cutting the engine off and unbuckling. He came back ten minutes later, two room keys in his hand. He tossed one to me. "They only had one-bed rooms," he murmured apolegitcally. I shrugged and grabbed our bags as he lead the way to the room. 

I didn't bother to change into the pajamas I'd bought. I kicked out of my shoes, pulled my socks off, and undid my bra, nearly ripping the last one off. I collapsed on the bed and Sam lay down next to me. Automatically I curled up against him. I was so close to sleep when I felt his fingertips tracing up my side. I groaned and fluttered my eyes open. 

He was close, really close, and I wanted to kiss him. "I can see that you want me, Cal. Give in, admit it," he whispered, still tracing his fingers up and down my side. I leaned over so my lips were at his ear. "Maybe I just want any relief," I breathed. Suddenly he rolled me over so that he was propped up over me, looking down at me with a gleam in his eyes. "Admit you want me and I can bring you that relief," he whispered. I made a noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper, then forced him to roll over so that I was sitting on his chest. I leaned down and hungrily pressed my lips against his. "Just shut up and fuck me, dammit," I growled.

...And then I woke up, my face flushing as I realized what I'd just dreamed.


	5. And the Cat Gets the Mouse

When I'd woken up, it was around six in the morning. I usually got up around this time, but I couldn't get up and move around because I might wake Sam up, and I didn't want to do that. It wasn't that he'd be mad, or that he wasn't a morning person, I just didn't want to face him after that dream because it had left me wanting. And as often as he offered, it was going to be hard to say no. I finally admitted to myself that I wanted him. Badly. 

After a few minutes of that thought trail, he woke up, sitting up and pushing his hair out of his face before looking over at me. "Sleep well?" he asks, and part of me wants to pounce on him right there. "I slept all right," I respond, forcing my voice to sound normal. He smiles and I sit up. "I'm gonna go shower," I mutter, grabbing my bag and practically running to the bathroom. That dream really messed with me, as well as leaving a need that I couldn't satisfy. I peed quickly before starting the shower, stripping and stepping under the water. 

I kept my shower short so Sam wouldn't remark on it. Once I was dressed I stepped out of the bathroom with my bag, and got flustered when I saw him standing there. He'd changed while I was taking my shower, only he hadn't gotten another shirt, so he was standing there without one. I froze. He looked up and a grin spread across his face. "You sure you don't want it?" he asked. I wanted to say I didn't, but it was the most transparent lie I could have told. I move until I'm standing directly in front of him, craning my neck to look up at him. "If I do?" I ask, breathlessly. He lips draw into a grin. "Then come and get it." I reach up and link my arms around his neck, then pull him down, crushing my lips against his in a way that almost hurt. I didn't care, I needed this. Taking off the shirt I'd just put on, he pushed me onto the bed, following quickly. 

***

Afterwards, we just lay there, me curled up against his side. I was sated, and I'd expected to feel bad, but I didn't. I actually felt good. I stretch and he looks down at me, a small smile on his face. "Was that so hard?" he asks, twirling a strand of my hair around his finger. I tilt my head up, my hair spreading out behind me. "You were definiately hard," I say, smirking at him. He laughs, and it's so good to hear him laugh that I join in, leaning up and giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

"I wanted to hear you say it before doing anything because I wanted to make sure I had your consent, Cal. I didn't want you to feel obligated to keep going," he said quietly, after we'd stopped laughing. I tense up. "Sam," I whisper, unable to believe that he would think I'd feel obligated to fuck him. "I would never have sex with you or anyone because I felt obligated," I say, my voice slightly louder. He smiles, twirling a strand of my hair again. "I know, but some part of me worried." I glance at the clock, and it's near ten o'clock now. "Shit, Sam, we need to get going," I say, starting to get up. He tightens his arm around my waist and pulls me back down, kissing the back of my neck. "Must we?" he asks, his breath skating across the back of my neck, causing me to arch my back. "Yes, we must. We've got a case." 

He lets me up and I start to get dressed, when I realize something. "Sam," I say quietly, sitting down on the edge of the bed in just my bra and panties. "What is it?" he asks, moving over to me, having pulled his jeans back on. "We didn't have protection," I murmur, looking at my hands in my lap. He freezes. "Shit, we were careless." I nod agreement. "Well, aren't you on birth control, or something?" he asks. I glance up at him, one eyebrow raised. "I don't have a regular doctor. I don't have a place to regularly get the pills. No, I'm not on birth control." He runs his hand through his hair. "I guess we wait a few days and then buy a pregnancy test, just to see," he says. I nod. "Yeah, all right." I get up and finish getting dressed, my movements slow and methodical, anxiety eating away at me. 

I won't be able to take a pregnancy test for two weeks, so, in the mean time, I plan to take care of the case and get back to the bunker. Sam finishes getting dressed and we pack all our things up before taking them to the car, tossing them in the trunk. I hand him my spare room key. "I'll let you check us out," I say, getting into the driver's seat. He nods and disappears into the lobby. I wait about five minutes for him to come out and get into the car. I pull out and start driving again, having Sam check the map to make sure we're going in the right direction. We are. We ride in silence, my face pinched with anxiety. I could be pregnant. I don't want to be pregnant. 

Sam reaches out and takes my hand as we drive. I glance over and smile at him. At least I finally got him.


	6. We Finally Get the News

It was three weeks after we left when we got back to the bunker. I was exhausted, but Sam wasn't, so I knew it hadn't been the hunt. It turned out that it wasn't a werewolf, but a Djinn who was harvesting hearts. We never got why the Djinn was doing it before we killed him, and he was actually a challenge to kill. I knew that either I was pregnant, or about to start my period, neither of which were attractive options. I pulled into the garage and got out just as Dean walked in from the main part of the bunker. 

"Hey, Callie, you're back!" he said, a grin stretching his lips. It didn't reach his eyes, though. It never did. "I am," I say, then suddenly double over and throw up. It came on suddenly, and it was horrible, because all I had in me to throw up was a soda. Dean reacted quickly, reaching out to hold back my hair as Sam got out of the car and came over, patting my back until it stopped. I stood back up, breathing heavily. I backed away from the puddle of vomit, feeling sick all over again from looking at it. "Get inside, Callie. I'll clean it up," Dean says. I nod and Sam ushers me inside, helping me to the couch. "I can walk," I say weakly, but make no move to stop him from helping. 

"I need to go to the pharmacy," I mumble, curling up on the corner of the couch. "I'll go. What do you need?" he asks, pushing my hair out of my face. "Pregnancy tests, you fucking idiot," I say, leaning my head back against the back of the couch. Just then, Dean walks in. "Pregnancy test?" he asks, his eyebrows shooting up as he gave me a stern glare. "Yes, Dean, a pregnancy test, because three weeks ago I fucked your brother and we were careless and didn't have protection and now I might be pregnant," I say, words falling out of my mouth quickly. I leaned my forehead against my knees as Sam got up and got out of there pretty quickly. 

"Y-you and Sam?" Dean asked, the stern look on his face quickly changing to disbelief. I groaned. "Yes. Me and Sam. It was bound to happen eventually." I hide my face. Dean walks over and sits down beside me, putting an arm around me. "Hey, I think it's great. You're perfect for each other. I was worried I'd have to start playing matchmaker," he said, giving me a small smile. "Really?" I asked, smiling back. "Really." 

Without thinking, my hand drifts down to my stomach. "So, are you ready for this if you are?" he asks. I shake my head. "God, no. I'm twenty-five. And I'm a hunter. I'm not ready to be a mother. I never will be," I say, shaking my head. Dean reaches out and ruffles my hair. "It'll be okay, kid." I stand up to go brush my teeth, the taste in my mouth finally getting to me. "I hope so, Dean," I whisper. 

***

Around thirty minutes after Sam left, he came back, handing me a bag with five different kinds of pregnancy tests. "I didn't know what kind to get," he mumbled. I take the bag from him and lean up on my tip-toes, kissing his cheek. "Thanks. I'll go take them." He nods, and I walk to the bathroom, my anxiety rising up and making me feel sick. I take the boxes out of the bag and decided to take all of them. 

After I take them, I'm supposed to wait three minutes before checking for the results. As soon as I've taken the last one, Sam knocks on the door. "Got the results yet?" he asks, anxiety colouring his own voice. I wipe and pull my pants up. "I've got to wait three minutes," I say, walking over to the door and opening it. I've laid all the tests in the sink and I turn to Sam, burying my face in his chest. He strokes my hair. "I'm so scared, Sam," I say, and his arms tighten around me. "It'll all be okay," he says. 

We stand there until the timer goes off, and slowly, I check the tests. They're all positive. All of them. I put my hand over my mouth and back away, letting out a strangled whimper. No. I can't be pregnant. I can't. "What does this mean?" Sam asks, looking at them. "I'm pregnant," I choke out, then burst into tears, my hand going to my stomach again, where there's actually a baby growing inside me. I'm anxious and upset and I feel insanely protective. I slid down the wall to the floor, curling my knees up against my chest. "I'm not ready," I whisper hoarsely. 

***

It takes me an hour to calm down, and we go to tell Dean. We find him at the kitchen table on his laptop, and we sit down across from him. He glances up, then shuts the computer and pushes it away. "Got the results?" he asks. I nod and wipe at my face again, even though there's no evidence left that I've been crying. "And?" he asks, more urgently. "I'm pregnant," I say softly, struggling not to burst into tears again. I've always hated crying, and so I hardly ever do it. I can feel a headache coming on from doing so already. 

Dean sighs and rubs at his face. "You could always get an abortion," he suggest. I stiffen. "No. That's not an option for me," I say, curling my arms protectively over my stomach. He holds his hands up. "All right. No abortion. Well, you need to find a regular doctor, one who deals with the baby stuff," he says. I smile, despite wanting to burst into tears. "You mean an OB/GYN," I say, and he shrugs. "Hell if I know. I just know that you need to go to one in case there are any problems." I nod. "I'll go find one, then," I say, standing and going to my laptop. 

I find a clinic that's well known, and not too far from the bunker. I call and make an appointment, talking to the doctor herself, who schedules me for one in three weeks. I hang up the phone and toss it on my bed, leaning against the dresser. It's times like these that I really wish I had a female friend so I wasn't totally alone. But anytime anyone had ever gotten close, I'd pushed them away. I ran my hands absentmindedly over my stomach. I just hoped I could make the right choices.


	7. Pregnancy is a Bitch

It's been a week since Sam and I got back to the bunker, and I've not kept a single meal down. I don't think my morning sickness would be so bad if I wasn't so anxious, but I was, and my morning sickness was so bad that there were several times when I actually considered telling Sam to go ahead and call an abortion clinic. 

I'd almost do it, convinced that it was the right thing. That I was so sick because this wasn't the right thing. Then I'd feel protective all over again, over this little baby that wasn't anywhere close to being born, and I knew I couldn't do anything to hurt it.

It was the Wednesday after we got back that I finally rolled out of bed and managed to take a shower. I had dark circles under my eyes that faintly resembled bruises, and I was paler than I'd been a week ago. My hair was also a mess, my mouth tasted like puke all the time. Before I showered, I brushed my teeth, and the shower was short, even though it felt wonderful. 

When I got out, I dressed in a pair of baggy sweatpants and one of Sam's over-sized t-shirts. I pulled my wet hair back in a ponytail and shuffled into the kitchen. Both Sam and Dean were at the table, Dean reading a book and Sam on his laptop. They both looked up when I entered, their faces lighting up. "It's good to see you up and about," Sam said, stretching. "I'm starving," I murmur. "What do you want?" Dean asks gently, bookmarking his place and shutting the book.

I think for a moment. "Just some toast," I suggest. He nods and gets up, going to the kitchen. Sam moves over to me. "When's the doctor's appointment?" he asks, rubbing my back. I relax against him. "Two weeks. Monday. At noon." He nods, leaning over to kiss my forehead. "Do you want me to come with you?" he asks. I start to say no, but then I realize that Sam's in this too. It's not just my baby, it's his too. I realize everything that's going to happen to get from point A to point B. "I would love it if you came," I whispered, reaching up and kissing his cheek. 

Seconds later, Dean walks out of the kitchen, a plate with two pieces of dry toast in his hand. He lays it in front of me with a glass of ginger ale and pats my shoulder. "I figured you might could keep ginger ale down," he mumbles. I smile at him. "Thanks." He smiles back, then sits back down at the far end of the table, returning to his book. I catch a glimpse of the cover and see that it's a Harry Potter book. 

I pick up the toast and start eating, taking small sips of ginger ale. Despite being as hungry as I am, I eat slowly. I wait ten minutes in between each piece of toast, and I feel fine. Just as I take the last bite, I've got to run to the bathroom and throw it up. This time, Sam follows me and holds my hair back, even though it's up in a ponytail, and I lean against his knees after I finish retching. He rubs my back as I stay leaned over the toilet, just in case I'm not really done. 

Five minutes pass before I get up and brush my teeth. Sam leans against the wall, his mouth pressed into a thin line. "Get me my computer," I say, going and laying on the bed, propped up against the headboard. He follows. "Why?" he asks. I grin up at him. "I'm puking my guts out and there's Google. I'm going to see what can help." He nods and leaves the room, bring me my laptop a few moments later. 

I look up "ways to help with morning sickness" and scroll down the results page until I see one that looks promising. I click on it and read. One of the suggestions is peppermint tea, which I've always loved, and which sounds pretty good. Sam's curled up beside me, his head on my shoulder, reading along. "Would you care to make me a cup of peppermint tea?" I ask. He glances up and smiles. "Not one bit. How do you like it?" I kiss him briefly. "Thanks. I like it with two packets of Splenda." He nods and leaves the room once more. I continue to read, looking for more ways to deal with it in case the tea doesn't work. 

Nothing else seems appealing, so I just have to hope the tea works. Five minutes later he brings me a cup. I shut the laptop and put it on the nightstand, sitting up all the way as I accept the tea from him. He sits down next to me again as I take a sip. Luckily, it's not too hot to drink. "I, uh, added a couple ice cubes to cool it down so you could drink it right away," he mutters. I glance up at him and give him a broad grin, curling up against his side. "Thanks, Sammy," I whisper, drinking more of it. 

Surprisngly, it helps, and I'm able to keep down a bowl of chicken noodle soup that Dean brings me about an hour later.


	8. The Appointment

The day of my doctor's appointment, I'm up a six in the morning, even though I don't have to be there until noon. I'm nervous, slightly shaky, and totally not ready. I get up, making sure not to disturb Sam, and go take a shower. My showers are getting longer and longer, and I know they shouldn't, but I can't help it. The warm water relaxes me. 

This one takes an hour, and when I get out I don't blow dry my hair because Sam's still asleep. I dress in some of the nicer clothes I have. I pad into the kitchen and fix a cup of peppermint tea. Lately, that’s been what’s saved me.

After I drink the tea, I go watch television, but I’m too restless and nervous to do that for long, so I get up and pace, leaving the television on as background noise. I should probably eat, but I’m not hungry, so every few minutes I’ll wander into the kitchen and then wander back into the living room.

This goes on for an hour before Sam wakes up. I notice him standing in the doorway of the living room, watching me pace back and forth. I stop when I see him and he walks up to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Nervous?” he asks. I nod, leaning my head against his chest. He kisses the top of my head. “It’ll be fine.” I nod again, not feeling like speaking.

“Have you eaten?” he asks. I look up, meeting his eyes. “No, I’ve not.” He frowns, pursing his lips. “Come on, I’ll fix you something.” I step away from him and he leads the way into the kitchen. I follow him, my hands drifting to my stomach again as anxiety knots within me.

I jump up onto the counter and sit as he fixes breakfast for the both of us, swinging my legs back and forth with nervous energy. Minutes later he hands me a sandwich, then makes another one for himself. I eat slowly, doing my best not to trigger the nausea again. He props himself up against the counter and eats.

“I can’t do this,” I say, looking down at my half-finished sandwich as the hysteria rises up. “There’s too much to do. I can’t be a mother. I don’t know how.” He puts his sandwich down on the counter beside him and turns to me, cupping my face with his hands. “You’ll do brilliantly,” he said, leaning forward to kiss me. I meet him halfway. “Will I?” I mumble under my breath, feeling defeated. He smiles. “Of course. You’ve managed with Dean so far.” I chuckle, despite that being one of the last things I want to do.

“That was different. He’s thirty-five,” I remark. Sam laughs. “What’s the difference?” I laugh with him, leaning up to kiss him. He smiles. “It’s only seven. We could go back to bed, sleep a little longer,” he offers. I shake my head. “I’m too wired to sleep.” He nods in understanding. “Well, you’ve always wanted to learn archery. We could go to the archery range and I could teach you?” I nod eagerly. Archery will give me something to focus on, something other than the doctor’s appointment.

He motions towards my unfinished sandwich. “Think you can eat any more of it?” he asks. I shake my head. “Even though I’m eating for two now, I’m full,” I mumble. He takes my hand and helps me off the counter, and I don’t say anything even though I’m perfectly capable of getting off it by myself. I look up at him, a smile on my face.

“Are you going to start treating me like I’ll break now?” I asked, half-teasing, half-serious. He looks down at me, a smile on his face. “Only if you want me to. I know you can handle yourself, you’ve proved that more times than I can count.” I let out a small sigh of relief. That had actually been one of my main worries.

Sam leads the way down to the archery range. I pause to put my phone from my pocket onto the small table by the door so I wouldn’t drop it, checking the time as I did so. It was only 7:30. I make my way over to where Sam’s standing by the bows. “Now, you need to get one that you can pull back. Some of them will be too heavy for you, and some of them are too heavy to be practical,” he starts.

***

At 11, we stopped with the archery. I was sweaty, my arms were sore, but I was happy and distracted. I put the bow back as Sam went and collected the arrows from the floor, wall, and a few from the targets. I’d learned fast and got a couple of bulls-eyes shots in. “I need to take another shower,” I murmur, glancing at him, He’s covered in sweat, too. He walks over with the arrows and drops them in the sling. “I need to take one too. We can take one together,” he offers. I nod. “Why not?”

We start walking up the stairs to the bathroom and I reach out and take his hand, which is so much bigger than mine. Will it feel similar to walk with my baby, when that happens? I shake my head slightly to get rid of these thoughts. If I start thinking about the baby, I’ll start thinking about the appointment, and I’ll panic.

We get in the bathroom and he turns the water on. I take off the clothes I’m wearing, noting the sweat smell that clings to the shirt and decide I’ll have to get another shirt. I’ve got a few more that are kinda nice, so one of them will have to do. He turns around and takes his clothes off, moving forward and kissing me. I wasn’t expecting this, but it’s not unwelcome. I push him into the shower, up against the wall, and he reaches around behind me and slides the door shut.

“We need to get clean,” I whisper as he kisses me again. “Do we have to?” he asks, moving us so that I’m the one pressed against the wall. “Yes, we’ve got to. I’ve got an appointment to get to,” I mumble against his lips and he sighs and steps back. I lean against the wall breathing heavily, damning the doctor’s appointment.

After that, we both shower relatively quickly, only taking about ten minutes or so. When we get out, I blow dry my hair this time, a towel wrapped around me. Halfway through the towel falls off before I can catch it, and I don’t bother to stoop down and pick it up. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Sam running his eyes up and down my body and I try not to blush, failing miserably. He chuckles and gets dressed. By the time he’s fully clothed, my hair’s dry, so I pass him the hair dryer and go get some clothes on, opting for a black tank top under a sheer blue shirt.

I grab my leather jacket because it’s kinda cold outside, tugging it on just as Sam finishes up in the bathroom. “Ready?” I ask. He nods, coming up and kissing me again, although making this one light and brief. I lead the way out the door, grabbing my purse from the counter. I don’t usually carry a purse, but I want to seem relatively normal, and besides, it’s a semi-useful way of carrying things. Sam takes my hand as we walk to the car, glancing at me sideways. “I’ll drive,” he offers. “Thanks,” I say, letting go of his hand and slipping into the passenger seat of my car.

He gets in the driver’s side and doesn’t protest at the music that comes on, a mixed CD of everything from Marilyn Manson to Fall Out Boy to Katy Perry. Just then, “The Wrong Direction” by Passenger is playing, and I know he doesn’t really like the music, but he doesn’t mess with it, which causes me to smile like an idiot as he pulls out onto the main road.

It takes us until 11:55 to get to the clinic, and hardly any time to park and walk in. As we walk, he puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his side so that with every step my hip bumps into his. Not a lot of people would take comfort in this, but I do. When I panic, I always need closeness with someone that I trust.

The clinic is pretty empty, which I expected as it was around lunch time. I sign in at the desk and the receptionist hands me a pile of paperwork to fill out. I take a pen from the cup and the offered clipboard and walk with Sam to the waiting area, taking a seat on one of the loveseats so that he can seat next to him. I glance over the papers first thing, and I feel panic rising within me. I don’t have any insurance, or a stable phone number, or even address. I glance at Sam and he takes it from me. “I’ll fill it out so that everything goes to Jody Miller; I called her the other day and asked,” he whispered in my ear. I nod and watch him fill out the papers in his neat, scrawling handwriting.

Just as he finishes the paperwork, Dr. Snowden walks out and calls my name. “Just drop the papers off with Ana,” she calls as we get up and walk towards her. I clutch my purse against me, fighting the urge to just bolt. Casually, Sam puts his hand on my arm as he hands Ana the paperwork. I relax ever so slightly, and he doesn’t move his hand until we’re in the room. Dr. Snowden turns to me with a smile. “So, Calypso, you’re pregnant?” she asks. “All the tests said I was positive,” I answered, jumping up on the examination bed. Sam stood with one hip leaning against it, standing rather close to me. I almost leaned up against him, then realized that probably wouldn’t be appropriate.

Dr. Snowden sits down on the rolling chair that’s in most doctor’s offices and faces us. “Well, typically with the first appointment, we run some blood tests to make sure everything’s good with mommy, and of course to make sure that you’re actually pregnant, rather than having a late or missing period. Of course, I’m here to answer any of the questions that you might have,” she said, smiling brilliantly. I liked her all right, so far. “I don’t have any questions off the top of my head,” I mumble. When I was little, I never told the doctors what was wrong. My mom always did. My mom…she was probably wondering what had happened with me. She and Dad had been taking a trip with the demon got in, so they lost both daughters in the same night. Since then, I’d dyed my hair from blonde to dark blue, dying it every few months. I’d grown it out, gotten a few tattoos. That way, even if I happened to run into someone from my old life, they wouldn’t recognize me.

I drag myself back to the present just in time to hear Dr. Snowden say, “let’s go ahead and get the blood work done, then.” I slip off the examination bed as she leads the way out of the small room. Sam and I follow, his arm around my waist. She motions for me to take a seat and I do, nervous not because she’s about to stick a needle into my arm, but because there might be something wrong.

She ties the ribbon around my arm, above the elbow, and taps a few times on my veins. “It’s a relief that you’ve got good veins,” she murmurs, almost to herself. I don’t say anything, my stomach knotting all over again. She slides the needle in, my blood rushing out to fill the container. When that one’s full, she replaces it with an empty one, then another when that’s full. There’s a small pinching feeling where the needle is, but I don’t have any reaction to it. I’ve had a lot worse.

She tops after three vials of blood, sliding the needle out and pressing a small cotton cloth over it. She grabs some of that blue cloth that sticks to itself and wraps it around my arm and the cotton cloth to make a bandage. I’ve never really had blood taken before, and I feel slightly woozy already. “You sure you don’t have any questions?” she asks, and I shake my head helplessly. I don’t know enough about pregnancy to have questions to ask. She nods sympathetically. “Well, out in the lobby we have several brochures that should be helpful, and we even have a website where you can post questions if you think of any.” I nod wordlessly and give her a small smile. “I think that’s it for this time. I can call you in a few days with the results of the lab work, and we’ll go from there,” she says. I nod and she escorts us out, where Sam pays the copay at the desk. After that we walk out and I slid into the passenger seat once more, suddenly hungry and exhausted.

I lean my head back against the seat as Sam gets in. He reaches out and takes my hand in his, shutting the door as he pulls his leg in. “How about we go out to eat? Wherever you want,” he asks, a smile on his face. I smile back at him tiredly and nod. “What about that Italian place we passed?” I reply, stretching out. Reaching up, I jerk off the bandage. I’ve stopped bleeding anyway. “Sounds great.”

As he pulls out, I think about how Dr. Snowden will contact us. “What number did you give them?” I ask, leaning back in the seat. He glances along the sides of the road, watching for the Italian place. “Your cell and mine both,” he responds. I nod as he pulls into the restaurant parking lot.


	9. Dining with the Devil

The restaurant was small, nearly empty, and beautifully decorated. Something felt off, from the first second, but I dismissed it as nerves and we were seated by a pretty waitress with short black hair. She handed us some menus and walked off to do something behind the counter.

Sam and I looked over the menus and decided on a simple order of spaghetti for the both of us. “You know, you usually don’t like Italian,” Sam remarked. I shrug as the waitress walks back over. “What can I get you to drink?” she asks. “Dr. Pepper,” I blurt out. She smiles and makes a note on the little notepad that all waitresses carry. “Sweet tea, if you serve it,” Sam says, reaching out and taking my hand. “We just made a fresh batch, sweetheart,” the waitress says, making another note. “Do you need more time or are you ready to go ahead and order?” she asks. “Yeah, we’ll both take an order of spaghetti,” I murmur, glancing down. Sam runs his thumb over my knuckles. I smile slightly. The waitress marks our order down and walks away.

Just then, another couple walks in. They actually look pretty familiar, and then I realize they were from a case a couple years ago. They were demons, and I had been hunting with Cas, and we barely got out alive. I stiffen and Sam glances up at them, shooting me a confused look. “Christo,” I mutter, looking at them. They flinch; their eyes going black.

The woman narrows her gaze in on me and they walk over and join us at the table. I’m tensed, ready for a fight, and I can feel Sam tense before we both move our hands back to our laps, where we’ve got knives stored. Sam’s the one with the demon knife, but I’ve got an angel blade and I know that’ll work just as well. Once they’re seated, the woman speaks, her tone hushed. “We need your help,” she whispers, her eyes trained on the door. The waitress comes back then, setting the drinks in front of us. “Your spaghetti will be done soon.” She turns to the woman demon. “What would you like?” she asks. She waves the waitress away. “We’re just here to meet these two,” she responds pleasantly. The waitress nods and walks away again.

“Why would we help you?” I ask, keeping my voice low. “You almost killed me.” The man answers instead of the woman. “Abbadon is on our ass. We know that you won’t help us out of the goodness of your hearts, so we were going to offer ourselves up as bait. As long as you get rid of her.” I lean back in my chair, making sure I visibly relax, even though I’m still on my guard. “We need to find the First Blade. That’s the only thing that can kill her, and even that’s useless without the Mark of Cain. Dean has the mark. If we can persuade him, we’ll help you, but only because we’re going to annihilate that bitch,” I whisper. The couple sits back as the waitress arrives with the food, setting it in front of me and Sam. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” she asks the demons. The woman smiles. “Maybe a glass of wine each.” The waitress nodded and scurried away, aware of the power even without being aware of what we are. I glance at Sam in the heartbeat after she leaves and we both stand up quickly, drawing our blades.

“We’re not stupid. We can tell when you’re lying,” Sam says before plunging his knife into the man’s chest. The woman’s up and on her feet instantly, backing away. I stalk after her, adopting a predatory stance, then grab her by the shoulder and slam her against the wall, sinking the angel blade in her body. Blood splatters onto my shirt as I pull the blade out, wiping it on her clothes.

The waitress came back, freezing when she saw the blood. Her eyes narrowed in on my shirt. “I’ve got a spare that’ll probably fit you,” she said. I turn to her, slipping the blade back into the sheathe. “You mean you aren’t freaking out?” I ask as Sam works to clean up the mess we’ve made. “I saw them die. If they were human, they wouldn’t have had that flame thing going on. Follow me,” she turns and starts walking towards the back, flipping the open sign to closed and shutting the blinds as we go, “so what were they?” I pause before answering. “Demons. Sam, the man I’m with, and me, we kill things like that.” Her eyes flicker. “Sounds fun. Can I join?” I stop walking and she turns to face me. “I’m serious. I want to make the world a better place and I’m not going to be able to do that working at some goddamn restaurant that nobody knows exists.” I consider.

“Fine. Help us clean up and come with us.” She nods and leads me into a back room. She opens a cabinet and tosses me a shirt. I catch it, stripping off the one I’m currently wearing, and pulling the clean one on. I notice that she was looking at me. “Nice tits,” she remarked and I blush, causing her to laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m not that way.” I roll my eyes at her and we walk back out. “We need to get rid of the bodies,” I say.

“Put them in the trunk of your car. We can dump them in the lake. Nobody goes there, the water’s toxic anyway,” she suggests. “Okay, that works. By the way, what’s your name?” Sam asks. She flashes him a smile. “Erin. Now, toss me the keys to the car and I’ll pull it around back.” Reluctantly I take the keys out of my pocket. “If you scratch her in anyway, I will end you,” I hiss. She nods and I toss them to her before she disappears out the door.

Stooping down next to Sam, I help clean up the blood. “We’ll have to wipe our fingerprints if we wanna stay in the area.” Sam nods his agreement and seconds later Erin walks back in. “I can’t carry a body, but the trunk’s open and the car’s hidden from sight, grab a body and follow me.” I roll my eyes at Sam and pick up the woman’s body, since it’s closest to me. Sam grabs the other man’s body and we follow Erin.

She holds the door open for us. Once we’re out the door, she looks back in. “I’ll wipe fingerprints down. Don’t leave without me.” Sam gives me a sideways glance. “Why do we need to wait for her?” he asks as he shoves the body in the trunk. I toss the one I’m carrying in there as well and slam the trunk shut, brushing my hands against my jeans. “Because I said she could come with us. And I swear to God if you give me shit for this-“ I’m interrupted by Erin walking back out to join us, a smile on her face. “So where are we going?” she asks, sliding into the backseat.

I hop into the driver’s seat, leaving the passenger side open for Sam. “Well,” I answer, “we’re going to stop by the lake and drop the bodies in it. Then we’re going to our home base. It’s called the bunker. It doesn’t look like much, but it’s home.” Erin gives me a smile in the rearview mirror. “Great. I’ve never had a place to call home.”

Despite my best efforts, I can feel pity rising up.


	10. Returning to the Bunker

After we dumped the bodies in the lake, I drove us back to the bunker. Erin and Sam were both silent, and it was an hour drive. After five minutes of the silence, I can’t take it anymore. I reach over Sam and open the glove box up, taking out my AC/DC CD and putting it in, letting Sam contend with the mixed CD. He puts it in the case it was previously in and shuts the glove box, looking rather brooding. After that, I ignore him, and force myself to keep my eyes from flicking back to check on Erin every few minutes. The kid wanted to come with us, she’ll be fine

I turn the music up as loud as is comfortable, which is too loud to hear any conversation anyways, and drive. I can tell Sam doesn’t really want to listen to AC/DC, but it’s my car, I’m pregnant, I just dropped two bodies into a lake, and I don’t really care. Erin doesn’t seem to have any reaction, but I do hope she doesn’t hate the music.

An hour later, I pull into the bunker’s garage and I park my little car. There’s no blood in the trunk, I’d already triple checked back at the lake, so all that was left was Erin. I cut the engine and got out, Sam unfolding himself out as well. After a few seconds Erin climbs out as well. Just as she’s getting out, Dean bursts into the garage. “How was the ap- who’s that?” he asks, stopping dead in his tracks when he sees her. I sigh heavily. “It’s a long story,” I respond.

I walk past him and lead the way into the kitchen, Erin looking nervous as we all sit around the table. “Start talking,” Dean says, shooting her glances. “Well, I’ll start with the appointment. It went well, I think. The doctor got some blood and said she’d call with the test results after she got them. Sam gave her both my cell number and his. After the appointment, we decided to stop at a restaurant to eat,” I say, when I’m interrupted. “That’s where I come in,” Erin tells him, and I think maybe she’s anxious to talk up, anxious for someone to finally hear something she has to say, and I bite my lip.

Dean turns to stare at her, his gaze unfriendly. She stares back, tilting her chin up in defiance. “And who are you?” he asks, his voice sharp. “Erin,” she replies, her tone matching his. He turns back to me, gesturing for me to keep talking. So I give him an outline of what happens at the diner, and when I get to the part about the fight, I’m interrupted again, but this time by Dean. “There was a fight?! Are you all right?” he asks, and for a second I think he’s going to get up and make sure himself before I can answer.

“I’m fine,” I insist. “Are you sure?” he asks. I sigh heavily. “I am. They didn’t touch me. Both of us were there. It was easy to take them out, which we did. She’s here because she saw what happened, didn’t freak, asked what they were, and helped us dump the bodies and clean up our mess.” He looks back at Erin again, then back at me. “You’re wearing different clothes,” he says, sounding slightly shocked. I grin. “I had too much blood on mine. Erin gave me a spare one of hers.”

He turned to look back at her. “Why’d you come with them?” he asks her. I sit back in my chair, my part done. Erin flashed him a smile. “Assuming you’re one of them, you guys do stuff that matters. And what’s the point of doing anything if you don’t do something that matters?” He stares at her, speechless for once. “Besides, I’m not one to turn down the prospect of a home. I’ve never had one before, and I’m tired of living in my cardboard box.” He clears his throat uncomfortably. “You were homeless?” he asks. “A homeless, good-for-nothing, that didn’t do anything that mattered. Calypso promised to teach me how to do what you guys do.”

Dean shook his head. “Callie’s not training you to do anything. She’s pregnant, as you’ve probably been told or guessed. I’ll train you, or Sam will one. Come on, I need to see what you can do,” he says, standing. Erin, looking mildly surprised, stands up as well, and Dean leads her presumably to the shooting range.

“He took it rather well,” Sam remarks. I nod agreement. He turns to me, tilting my chin up and kissing me, and part of me suddenly wants to throw him down on the table and fuck his brains out. I think he can sense it, because he stands up and pulls me with him, pushing me forcefully against the wall, kissing me heatedly. I break away, breathing heavy. “Bedroom,” I manage to gasp out. He kisses me one more time before picking me up in his arms and carrying me bridal style to the bedroom, tossing me down on the bed before crawling over me. Dimly, I check over his shoulder and check that the door’s shut before we start kissing again.


	11. Oh My God

I woke up two hours later curled up against Sam’s side. He was still asleep, and he looked beautiful. I reach up and push his hair out of his face, then gently roll out of the bed and gather my clothes. Before I can finish getting dressed, I’m hit with a powerful wave of nausea and run out of the bedroom to the bathroom that’s across the hallway, kneeling in front of the toilet and throwing up violently.

Groaning, I stopped retching and leaned against the wall, dragging the towel down to cover myself. After sitting like that for a few seconds, I noticed Erin peep around the door. “Need any help?” she asks. “I don’t know,” I say, curling up on the floor. She enters and flushes the toilet as she kneels next to me. “Let’s get you in the shower,” she whispers, starting the water. Slowly, I stand, and when she’s adjusted the temperature, I shed the towel and step under the flow of water. “I’ll go get you some clothes,” she says before letting the shower curtain fall shut and backing out of the room, closing the door behind her.

My shower feels great, and most of nausea evaporates. I spend a lot of time in the shower, running my hands over my stomach. It’s not actually bigger, but it feels like it. After about thirty minutes, I shut off the water and get out. I didn’t hear Erin come back in, but there are fresh clothes on the counter. I towel myself off and get dressed, wrapping the towel around my head afterwards.

When I get back to my bedroom, Sam’s not there. I drop the towel into the dirty clothes, grab my cell phone, and head into the dining, where Dean and Erin are sitting at the table, eating supper. I don’t know what it is, but it looks good, and I think Erin cooked it. Sam’s still nowhere to be seen. I shrug it off and sit down next to Erin. Just after I sit down, Dean gets up to put his bowl in the sink. Erin leans over to me. “I know he’s in a relationship, but I’d swallow that one’s unborn,” she whispers, giving me a smirk. I snort and roll my eyes, but I can’t help but grin.

“You know where Sam is?” I ask. She shrugs. “No clue. He went to the garage and got in a car and I don’t know where he went.” I nod, then stand up to go to the kitchen and get something for myself. “There’s leftovers,” Erin said. I nodded again and continued into the kitchen. There are a lot of leftovers, so I reach up and get a plate down just as my cell phone rings. I leave the plate on the counter and fish my cellphone out of my pocket. It’s Dr. Snowden. I answer immediately.

“Hello?” I answer it just before the ringing can stop. “Hello, this is Calypso Martin, correct?” Surprisingly, it’s the doctor herself. “Yes, it is,” I reply. I can almost hear the smile she always has plastered on her face. “This is Dr. Snowden calling. I got the lab results back, and you are indeed pregnant. Everything else was normal. Do you happen to know how far along you are?” Her voice is warm and quiet, and I’m glad that I picked her as my doctor; she’s a good one. “I’d say about five weeks. I know the exact day of conception and yesterday it was five weeks exactly.” I lean against the counter, waiting for a reply. “Well, I usually see most women for the first time during the pregnancy at six weeks. Obviously, you’re new and so I saw you during the fifth week. We can always make another appointment for next week. I’ve got an opening on Thursday, same time as today. We can do the first ultrasound then, which is what typically happens on the first visit.” I bite my lip, wishing Sam was here to ask. “That’d be great, thank you,” I say. “You’re welcome. Congratulations, once again, and I’ll say you on Thursday,” she says before hanging up.

I hang up my phone and put it back in my pocket, loading my plate up with food. I eat quickly, putting the plate back in the seat when I’ve finished. My phone buzzes in my pocket as I’m washing the dishes. I dry my hands off and see that it’s a text message. “I’m back, come outside,” it reads. It’s from Sam. As a measure of caution, I slip the angel blade into the sheathe and pull on Dean’s leather jacket because it’s the first jacket I see. I put my phone back in my pocket after sending an affirmative and walk out.

He’s standing there leaning against the wall, and it’s definitely him. I’m relieved, even though I wasn’t really expecting it to be a trick. I walk over to him and give him a quick kiss. “Why’d you want me out here?” I ask. He flashes me a smile and gets down on one knee. For a second I’m confused, then when he pulls a box out of his pocket, I realize. Holy shit, is all I can think and I back up a few steps, my hand over my mouth. “We’ve played an extensive game of cat and mouse, Callie. Care to end it for good?” he asks, and I can feel the tears rising up and damn him, he can’t even propose the normal way. I nod my head frantically and throw my arms around his neck, forcing him to catch me. “Yes, you idiot,” I mumble, wiping my eyes as I feel his arms wrap around me and hold me close.

It takes me a few minutes to compose myself, but when I do, I pull away slightly, and he slips the ring on my finger. It’s really simple, and non-conventional. It’s a golden band that looks like branches, and set where the golden branches collide is a small diamond. “It’s perfect,” I say. He smiles crookedly at me. “So are you.” I can feel the tears welling up in the back of my throat and I bury my face in his neck, my arms encircling his neck again. “God, I love you.”


	12. The Ultrasound

On Thursday, I woke up at 8 feeling extremely nervous. I mean, in about four hours I was going to hear my baby’s heartbeat and actually see my baby. I still hadn’t exactly come to terms with my pregnancy, and I wondered how so many women could go through it so casually when most waking moments were a struggle of not panicking. And now I was engaged, so we had to decide whether we wanted to get married before the baby was born or after, and we had to decide quickly.

Thinking about all that made my head hurt, so I got up and took a shower and got dressed. The shirt I’d chosen was a little tight on my stomach, but that was okay. I was still pretty skinny, although I knew that’d change pretty soon. I wasn’t hungry yet, so I figured I’d eat in about an hour and went into the dining room, grabbing my computer off the counter. I made my way to the living room and sat on the corner of the couch.

I had an hour to kill on the Internet, so I decided to educate myself about pregnancy, which was a very real issue in my life that I was going to have to face sooner or later. I’d been reading for thirty minutes before Sam got up and joined me in the living room, curling up beside me and leaning his head on my shoulder to read what was on the screen. I’m sure he was grateful that I wasn’t looking up a case, which I really wanted to do. But I doubted he would let me go on another hunt for a very long time, if ever.

I’m sure we made a comical sight, with our size difference. A big giant of a man leaning his head on me, a small woman curled up to make herself even smaller. I leaned my head against his. “Nervous?” he asked me, as I shut my laptop and laid it on the table. I gave him a small smile. “Very,” I responded as he sat up and wrapped his arms around me, letting one giant hand rest on my stomach.

I put my hand on top of his, and both of us are smiling. This is one of those snapshot memories that I’ll remember. “I was reading, and uh, it said that the baby’s about the size of a bean right now. Soon it’ll be kicking,” I tell him, looking up at him. He looks down at me, a look of pure happiness on his face, and it kills me to admit that I don’t know if I can do the whole wife and mother thing. “Hungry?” I ask, trying to distract myself.

He nods. I push his hair back again and smile at him. “What would you like? I’ll cook, it’s been awhile.” He stretches, snuggling against me, and I’m comfortable. “Anything.” I kiss the top of his head. “A surprise, then?” I ask. He nods and I extract myself from the couch. Reluctantly, he lets me up. I lean down and give him a quick kiss before padding into the kitchen, opening the fridge and looking in.

We were running low on most foods, so I knew we’d have to go grocery shopping soon. It felt strange, as we slipped into this degree of normalcy. In my past experience, normal wasn’t something I liked. I grabbed some bacon out of the fridge, a carton of eggs, some cheese, and some tortilla shells. As I began to cook, Sam came and stood in the doorway, watching me. I glance up at him, and then continue cooking. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do I, and the silence is comfortable, so we don’t break it until I finish cooking and slide a plate towards him on the counter.

“It’s ready,” I tell him with a smile. He walks over to me, and I crane my head back to look up at him. He reaches out with his hand and pushes my hair out of the way, leaning down to kiss me tenderly. I’m filled with love, and for the first time, I think that maybe I can do this.

After he kisses me, we wordlessly start to eat. He eats a lot more than me, even though I’m eating for two. I eat about half of one of the tortillas before stopping. He eats quicker than me too, so by the time I’ve eaten that much, he’s eaten three. He stops as well, and we put the plates in the sink, raking what’s left over into the trashcan. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth,” I mumble, then escape to the bathroom.

My problem is that I always run from any intense emotions that I’ve got. Usually, I drink them away, but that’s not an option anymore. I run my hands over my stomach. “What have you gotten me into, Little Bean?” I whisper, sighing heavily. After the few seconds it takes me to calm down, I brush my teeth and step out of the bathroom. Sam’s waiting at the door, and I can tell he went into another bathroom and brushed his own teeth.

It’s 9:30 now, and I’m nervous all over again. Just then, Dean’s bedroom door opens and Erin spills out, her hair messed up and her clothes crooked. I freeze, meeting her eyes. She freezes as well, and then I see Dean standing behind her, his hair ruffled, his shirt on backwards, and even from across the hall I can smell the liquor on him. Her cheeks red, Erin disappears into her room. Sam stalks up to Dean, his expression hard. “What about Cas?” he asks quietly, and my heart twists in my chest for the angel.

Dean sneers. “Cas left me, princess,” he snarls, and suddenly I’m pissed off. I walk forward, stepping between Sam and Dean. “That’s no excuse,” I say quietly, barely containing myself. “Oh, she was easy,” he says coldly, and before I can stop myself I slap him, hard. “You asshole. She’s had it hard, and you have too, but that doesn’t give you the right to be a fucking dick.” He stumbles backwards from the physical blow, or maybe it’s the blow from my words. Feeling an irrational sense of anger welling up in me, I turn and stalk away, slamming the door in Dean’s face, even though it’s Dean’s door.

Sam follows me, struggling to keep up without breaking into a jog. After ten minutes of walking blindly through the bunker, I feel myself in the library, Sam’s hand on the small of my back. I lean against the wall and sigh heavily. “Damn him,” I whisper. “Hey, it’s okay. Erin’s a big girl, she can take care of herself,” he murmurs, stroking my hair to try and calm me. “She’s just as twisted as he is. They’ll be fine, both of them.” I lean my head back and close my eyes. “Maybe you’re right.” He gives me another crooked smile. “I’m always right.” I snort, but lean up on my tiptoes to kiss him lightly on the cheek.

Going over to the armchair, I kick my shoes off and curl up. “I’ll fix you some tea,” Sam says, disappearing. I lean my head back, my eyes shut. A few seconds later, I hear footsteps entering. “I know you didn’t get the tea done that quickly,” I say, opening my eyes. It’s not Sam standing there, but Erin, and she’s cleaned herself up a little bit. “You’ll make your own tea before I make it for you. You’re pregnant, not made out of glass.” I grin at her. “Finally, someone who understands.” She gives me a small smile.

“Are you made at me for hooking up with Dean?” she asks, after a few moments of silence. I sit up straight, uncurling. “No, not at all! I’m pissed at him for his attitude after. From what I understand, you’ve had a pretty shitty life. I don’t want him to fuck it up anymore.” She smiles grimly. “He’s not going to fuck me up. I’m prepared; I know what I’m getting into. I understand that he’s a little broken, and that doesn’t matter. He was in a pretty bad place last night, and he needed someone to do something, so I did the only thing I really knew how to do. Really, we’re both fine, or as fine as we can be. Don’t worry about us.” I smile at her.

“I can’t help but worry. Dean’s always said that that’s my job.” She grins. “You know, Callie? You’re pretty fucking awesome.” I grin broadly. “You aren’t half bad yourself, Erin.” I stretch in my seat, curling up again now that the serious talk is over. “Look, I’ve had plenty of one night stands, and I’m sure you’ve had quite a few yourself. That was no different, last night. It was no strings attached.” I meet her eyes, and I can see that she’s telling the truth, or at least as much truth as she can muster. I nod, just as Sam enters with a cup of tea. I reach up and take it as Erin stands and leaves the library, not acknowledging Sam.

The tea isn’t too hot, because he’s put milk in, so I can drink it right away. I drink it slowly, and it helps with the nausea I’d been feeling. It takes me thirty minutes to drink the cup of tea, and even though we know it’s early, we get up and get our stuff together. “We can go ahead and leave,” I say, and Sam knows better than to argue with me. I can’t stand being cooped up in the bunker another minute, and, meeting my eyes, he knows this.

Taking my hand, we take off running down the hallway, and we both laugh as we run, and we’re out of breath, and by the time we get to the garage, I’m bent over double, laughing and gasping, and it feels good. It’s been a long time since something so innocent has felt so purely good. He leans over next to me, even though he’s a jogger, and we’re both out of breath, and it’s a wonderful moment.

After we catch our breath, we straighten up and get in my car, him in the passenger seat. I stretch out, kicking my shoes off and putting my feet on the dashboard, putting in the My Chemical Romance CD I have, leaning back in the seat. Sam slips into the driver’s seat and grins at me. “Guess I’m driving, then,” he smirks. “Guess you are,” I say. I lean my head back and close my eyes as he starts the car and pulls out, reaching out to take my hand. I link my fingers through his, relaxing and enjoying the ride.

****

We get to the clinic in around an hour. We meet a very pregnant woman walking out as we walk in, but otherwise it’s deserted. I step up to the receptionist and sign myself in. As she calls back to Dr. Snowden, Sam I move to take our seats, when the door opens. “It’s been pretty dead today, most of the patients I had scheduled didn’t show up. I can go ahead and take you back right now, if you’re up for that,” she offers. “Yeah, that’d be great,” I say. She gives me a smile, and I feel like something’s wrong, for some reason. “Christo?” I ask, turned towards Sam. Her eyes stay normal, so at least she’s not a demon. I can’t be too careful. Sam shakes his head. “Nah, not today.” I nod, as if our “conversation” makes sense.

Hopping up on the table in the ultrasound room, I pull my shirt up to expose my stomach. Dr. Snowden rubs the gel on, and it’s cold. I suck in a breath but don’t say anything, and she gives me a smile before touching the machine to my stomach. She rolls it around for a while, then leaves it where it is. Her eyes widen, but she still smiles, and she reaches out and flicks the switch. The sound of two heartbeats fills the room, and I tense up. Sam looks incredulous. “Well, Ms. Martin, it looks like you’re having twins.”


	13. Noping My Way Through Life

I managed to hold it all together through the rest of the appointment, and through the car ride home. When Sam pulls in, however, I’m out of the car and in my bedroom in under a minute, sliding down the floor and starting to hyperventilate. I’d prepared myself for one baby, and now I was getting two. As I was panicking, Sam followed me in and knocked on the door. I crawled out of the way, still breathing quickly and shallowly.

After he didn’t get a response from me, he nearly broke the door off its hinges trying to get it open. When it did open and he fell in, before it shut once more, I could see Dean standing in the hallway. Then the door shut and I curled up against Sam’s chest, starting to cry. I felt Sam’s arms tighten around me, his hand stroking my hair. “Jesus, Callie, people are usually happy when they find out they’re having twins,” he says.

I push him away from me. “I’m not most people, Sam,” I hiss. “I had just barely come to terms with the fact that I was going to have one and just before the appointment I was realizing that I can’t do it.” He stands up, towering over me. I stand up to, feeling an ugly snarl form on my face. “I think you’re overreacting,” he says quietly. Before I can stop myself, I slap him. “You aren’t the one who’s going to carry two people inside of you for nine goddamn months. You aren’t the one who’s going to have to go through the pain of getting them out. You can walk away whenever you want,” I tell him, the tears having been replaced with an anger boiling up inside of me.

Without waiting for a response, I turn and jerk the door open, storming out. He doesn’t know what it’s like. I couldn’t even take care of myself the right way; the mass of scars that’s my upper thighs proves that. I’ve always been self-destructive in nature, and it’s killing me that because of an apparently really stupid mistake I made six weeks ago that I can’t do anything about the emotions that are boiling up inside. I can’t lash out, I can’t drink, I can’t smoke, and I can’t do anything. After wandering through the bunker aimlessly, lost in my inner turmoil, I wind up back in the garage. Since I’ve always been reckless, and since my car is right there, I get in and drive a little to fast and a little too recklessly for any person to be comfortable with, but I had an urge to destroy something, even if it was myself.

When I got close to the dirt road that led down to the river, I slowed and then made a turn. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t swim well, or that it was chilly outside. On the riverbank, I parked my car and stripped myself down to my underwear. As I did, my phone chimed nonstop with messages from both Sam and Dean. I ignored them, tossing them into the car and stepping into the cold water. Let them find me.

Despite the cold, the water calms me down, like it’s always done. Standing in the chest-deep water that’s chilling me to my bones, I put my hands on my growing stomach. It’s not visibly growing yet, but I can feel the differences, the skin stretched taunt. Pressing against my stomach with my hand, I think that I can feel the heartbeats.

Just then, I hear the tires of the Impala crunching on the gravel. Desperately, I dunk myself under the water, knowing that I’ll have to surface soon, and that my car and clothes are there. Under the water, everything’s muffled, but I can still hear a single car door shut. I close my eyes briefly, hoping to God that it’s not Sam, before surfacing.

Thanking God, I see that its just Dean, and he’s standing on the bank, looking pissed and disappointed. It’s then I realize, that in all four years I’ve been with them, he’s not seen my scars, and I’ve never told him that I used to self-harm. “Get your ass out of the water,” he says, his voice hard and cold. I hesitate, desperately not wanting him to see my scars. “Right now,” he demands, and I’ve got no choice but to crawl out of the water, and I try to cover my scars with my hands, but my hands aren't big enough.

He probably wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t tried to hide it. But I did try to hide it, so his eyes narrowed in on my tights. Most people would feel sexually harassed by this, but I knew Dean, and I knew he was only zeroing in on my bare thighs because I was trying to cover them and that was unlike me. He stepped closer to me, his eyes rising to meet mine. I lowered my gaze, staring at the ground by my feet. “When did you do it, Callie?” he asks. “Not all at once. Some of these scars are eight years old. Some of them as young as three years.” He moves forward then, and for some reason I flinch, but he just pulls me into a hug, and I’m cold, so I move as close to him as I can, shivering.

“Get dressed,” he tells me, letting me go, and so I do, stooping and picking up my clothes, pulling them on, still shivering. As I’m getting dressed, Dean gets in the driver’s seat of my car. “What the h-hell are you doing?” I ask, my teeth chattering. “I can’t trust you to drive back to the bunker yourself. Get in.” I sigh heavily, and consider arguing, but I comply and get in. I crank the heater up all the way and finally check my phone. I’ve got twelve missed calls, six from Sam, and six from Dean. I’ve got loads more text messages, most of them from Sam, most of them telling me that he’s sorry and begging me to be okay. I suddenly feel really bad for just driving off without telling anybody anything.

Hitting reply on the most recent one I got from him, I type out a new text.

 _Sam, I’m the one who’s sorry. I acted like a bitch. I’m fine, and I really don’t deserve you. I love you so much_.

Thanks for putting up with me. I hit send and endure the painfully awkward silence with Dean until we pull into the bunker’s garage.


	14. I'm Sorry

The second Dean parks my car; I unbuckle and jump out of the car. Sam isn’t waiting on us, not that I expected him to be. I don’t know where he is, but I know he’s somewhere in the bunker. While I’m looking for him, Dean and Erin leave in my car to go pick up the Impala.

I finally find Sam in the archery range, shooting repeatedly at the same target. I stand in the doorway for a full ten minutes before he notices me. When he does, he drops the bow, and I can see that he’s angry and worried. I run and throw my arms around his neck, my feet lifting off the ground because he’s so damn tall. His arms wrap around me and I let out a sigh of relief, because for a second I didn’t think he’d respond positively.

“I am so sorry,” I tell him, and I’m crying again. His arms tighten around me, and I don’t care that he’s sweating, or that my feet still aren’t touching the ground. I’m just glad that he’s here, and more importantly, that I’m still here to apologize. “I’m sorry too, Cal,” he says, pulling back and kissing me hard. I kiss him back desperately, trying to pour just how much I’m sorry into that kiss.

We pull back when we need some more air, and I’m still clinging to him, and he’s not letting me go, although he does let me slid down so my feet touch the ground, my face level with his lower chest. I bury my face against him, and we stand like that for a few minutes, and I feel horrible for the way I acted, and I know part of it was pregnancy hormones, and I know that that isn’t any excuse.

“I need to take a shower,” he finally whispers, “take one with me.” I realize that my underwear is still wet and cold, so I’m quick to agree with him. He smiles, stoops down and picks up the bow, and goes to the rack to put it up. I make my way over to the target, gently pulling all the arrows out and gathering them up. After I get them, I turn and take them to Sam. He takes them from me and slips them into their quiver, then, quick as lightening, he grabs me and pins me against the wall, tickling me. I scream, struggling to get away, but he’s bigger and a little stronger, so I can’t.

“Sam, I’m warning you! Stop it!” I yell, trying to stop his hands from tickling me and trying to stop my feet from kicking him off me. I didn’t want to hurt him accidentally, and when I get tickled, I usually just flail. “And if I don’t?” he says, still tickling me. Taking a deep breath, I go limp for a moment, and then turn us both around, pinning him against the wall. “Or I’ll take control,” I say, although the effect is ruined because I’m gasping for breath. He laughs; a deep warm laugh that’s contagious, and I can’t help but laugh too. I step back and let him up.

Before I can protest, he scoops me up in his arms, a huge smile still on his face. “Let’s go take that shower,” he says, as I curl up against his chest, laying my head on his shoulder as he walks out of the archery range and up the stairs. “Thank you,” I murmur quietly once we’re in the bathroom that’s attached to my bedroom. “For what?” he asks, sitting me down. I open my mouth to speak, when I realize that I’m not sure what I’m thanking him for. I shrug. “I don’t know. I just felt like I needed to say it.” He smiled, leaning down and kissing me gently before going over and starting the water, stripping his shirt off as he did. I scramble out of my clothes, relieved to be out of my cold and wet underwear. I was still a little cold, so as soon as the water was warm, I shot under it, and stood there shivering, waiting on Sam.

After he got the rest of his clothes off, he got in and shut the clear shower door behind him. I stepped out of the main jet of water to let him wash, since he was the one that was sweaty. He washed quickly, and after he rinsed off, he stepped back slightly and pulled me to him, letting some of the water hit me. He looked down at me, his wet hair falling into his face, and I couldn’t help myself. I reached up and pushed it back out of his face, then something came over us both and he slammed me forcefully against the shower wall, lifting me up so that his lips could find mine. I let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a whimper and tightened my grip in his hair, pulling him closer.

Between kisses, he managed to gasp out, “We should get out of the shower. Safety concerns.” I ignored him, kissing him harder. After a few seconds, or maybe minutes, we slid down the wet shower wall, Sam still towering over me. Reaching behind him, I turned the water temperature up until it was scalding hot, sliding over us. He flipped us over so that I sat in his lap, and then I took control again.

Sex was always how I dealt with anything. Anger, grief, pain, sorrow, despair, happiness. I didn’t know how to deal with anything, so I just fucked it out of my system. This wasn’t any exception, except for, maybe this time it was done with more love than usual. Because I love Sam, I really do. But I also love the two little beans that are growing inside of me.


	15. Shopping

Four weeks pass. I gain around six pounds, and by the time the fourth week has passed, there’s no denying it: my clothes don’t fit me anymore. I lounge around the bunker, feeling abnormally fat and moody, although I’m careful not to push anyone away. My morning sickness has abated again, but the aches, breast tenderness, and cravings have all intensified. It’s been a struggle not to stress eat, but that’s where most of the six pounds of extra weight has come from.

I wake up at ten, and wake Sam up directly after. He rolls over, his arm over his eyes, his voice groggy with sleep. “What is it Callie?” he asks me. I snuggle against him. “You promised we’d go shopping today. None of my clothes fit,” I say, blinking the sleep out of my own eyes. Reluctantly, he lowers his arm from his eyes and wraps it around me, pulling me to him. “I did, didn’t I?” I grin at him.

He sits up, pulling me with him. “How long is this going to take?” he asks, rubbing at his eyes and pushing his hair out of his face. “I hope it doesn’t take long,” I tell him, running a hand over my stomach nervously. Smiling, he reaches down and puts one very large hand over my stomach, encompassing a large portion of it. I’ve started to show a little, my shirts starting to get a little tight over my stomach.

“How big are they now?” he asks, rubbing his thumb up and down. I lean my head on his shoulder and smile, placing my small hand over his. “The websites say they should be the size of a lime,” I reply. He kisses the top of my head, almost automatically. “They’re growing quite a bit then, aren’t they?” I nod, curling up against his side. We sit like that for a few minutes.

Eventually, I sigh and crawl off the bed. “Come on, Sam. I need new clothes, desperately. We might as well get dressed.” He groans, but shoots me a grin He doesn’t really dread this, although I do. I’ve always hated shopping with a passion. Frowning, I go over to my closet and paw through it for the one pair of jeans that still fit me. Even they’re getting uncomfortably tight. I jerk my pajama pants off and struggle into the jeans, Sam struggling not to laugh as he gets his clothes out and on. Finally, I flop onto the bed and button them, grimacing. I hope I’m not hurting my little Beans by wearing these jeans.

“Sam, can I borrow on of your shirts?” I ask, too lazy to dig through my clothes until I find one of mine that isn’t tight. He gives me another smile, his eyes warm and bright as he tosses me a band t-shirt that he has but never wears. “I don’t think I’ve ever worn that,” he mumbles as I pull a bra on. That’s another thing that’s too small now. “Why’d you buy it?” I ask. He shrugs. “The novelty of having it, I guess.” I scrunch my face up. I’ve never understood buying clothes that you have no intention of wearing, but I guess I shouldn’t be talking, with the pile of unworn shoes in the bottom of my closet.

I put on deodorant before pulling Sam’s shirt on, and it’s a little baggy, but it’s comfortable. Reluctantly, I look in the mirror, at my hair, which has fluffed out and is really tangled. I make a face at myself in the mirror before tackling it, which takes a whole five minutes just to get it brushed. I decide to curl it, which I don’t like, and so I straighten it. The end result looks pretty good, I decide.

While I was struggling with my hair, Sam went and made breakfast for the both of us. He made cheese omelets, nothing fancy. I’m not too hungry just yet, so I pick at my food, eating about half of it. In the time it takes me to eat half of one, Sam’s inhaled three. I don’t know how he does it. Before I got pregnant and had to contend with morning sickness, I ate fast, but I still couldn’t eat as fast as him. Seriously, does he even chew?

After we eat, I clean up, since Sam’s the one who cooks. He leans against the counter, watching me, and when I finish I lean up and give him a quick kiss. “Let’s go shopping,” I say, leading the way into the garage, grabbing my purse and phone as we walked out. He smiles and follows me. “What car?” he asks. I shoot him a surprised glance. “We usually take mine, like, everywhere,” I say. He shrugs. “Dean gave me permission to take the Impala, as long as we’re careful. You usually love riding in the Impala.” I can feel my face brighten. “Seriously?” I ask. He nods, and I feel myself grin. “Then we’ll take the Impala. Can I drive?” Sam laughs. “Yeah of course,” he tells me.

Excitedly, I slid into the driver’s seat. I don’t have to adjust it; it feels comfortable like it is. The Impala, of course, smells like Dean with a faint scent of hard liquor lingering. It’s warm inside, but not too warm, and I crack the windows as we drive out so that the air will circulate. The Impala is reliable, and a gift to drive. I stretch myself out as much as I can, relishing in the fact that I’m actually driving the Impala, something that Dean protects more than he does me.

It’s no time until we get to the mall. Parking is a different story; that takes quite a while to find an empty spot that isn’t ridiculously far from the entrance. I do find one, eventually, Sam pointing out possible places to help me. I park and shut off the engine, giving the dashboard an affectionate pat. As silly as it is, I sometimes feel like the Impala is a living, sentient being, kind of like the TARDIS from Doctor Who.

I glance at Sam. “I’m so not looking forward to this,” I groan. He chuckles. “It seems like you like it even less than me,” he teases. I open the door. “I think that’s a correct assumption.” I get out of the car and shut the door, being careful not the slam it. The Impala’s doors shut easily, unlike my car. I lean against the back until Sam joins me, then heave a final sigh before walking into the mall.

It’s bright inside, yet dark at the same time, and it smells new. “Lead the way,” Sam tells me, as I shift closer to him. “I don’t know my way around here,” I snap, squeezing his hand to let him know that I didn’t mean to snap. He smiles, gently leading me over to the directory. “I don’t know what stores we should go to,” I say, nervously. I know what stores I usually shop at, but now I’m shopping for maternity clothes. I probably should have done some research before. Glancing at the directory, he points to one shop. Gap Maternity. Well, that does make sense. “Let’s go,” I say, and after another look at the directory, I lead him off through the mall, walking as close to him as I can without tripping over him. Crowds make me nervous.

The store is nearly empty when we get there, a teenage sales clerk thumbing through some magazine at the counter. She glances up lazily as we walk in. “Can I help you?” she asks, her tone bored. I hate to ask for help, especially in stores, but I ask anyways. “Um, yeah, actually. I don’t know what I’m doing, and he’s no help,” I tell her. She smiles, closing the magazine and moving from behind the counter. Maybe she won’t be reluctant to help, even though she has the immediate attitude that she will.

“Are you the pregnant one?” she asks, standing in front of me. I nod, forcing myself not to avert my eyes from her. “Well, obviously you aren’t too pregnant, although from the way you’re moving, those jeans are too tight. You’re just going to get bigger, naturally, since you’re still tiny. So, if I were you, I’d get a few in several different sizes. That’s just pants. You’re boobs are gonna get bigger too, so I can help you with maternity bras.”

And so we entered a whirlwind of trying on different clothes, and picking them out, and telling myself that I can’t be too picky because the store isn’t too big and there’s not that much to choose from. After two hours, I’m cranky and tired, but we walk away with ten new pairs of jeans, two pairs of sweatpants, four maternity bras, and twelve shirts. I finally said that I had enough clothes to purchase and if I needed more I’d come back. The lady was nice about it, rung me up, and the total was a whopping $205.30. I almost changed my mind when I saw the total, but Sam pushed passed me and paid. He also gathered several of the bags and carried them to the car. I carried two of the bags. He had the rest. I started to protest, but reminded myself that I should pick my battles, and we loaded up the trunk with my purchases, and I crawled into the passenger seat, and fell asleep as Sam was pulling out of the mall parking lot.


	16. A Horrible Scare

Dimly, I felt the car stop before Sam shook me into full awareness. Confused, I sat upright, one hand pressing against my stomach and the other arm propping me up in the seat. I was groggily confused by my surroundings, since we weren’t at the bunker. Blinking a few times, I realized we were at a small local restaurant that served Italian food, which I’d been eating more and more of lately as the cravings hit. I noticed Sam was smirking, and I stuck my tongue out at him.

Laughing, he reached out and pinched it between his two fingers, surprising me. I made a noise in the back of my throat and he laughed harder, letting go. I joined him in the laughter, unbuckling and leaning over to kiss his cheek. He smiled softly, kissing the top of my head as I pulled away. He unbuckled and got out of the car as I re-fixed my hair, since it’d gotten messed up during my nap. As I adjusted it, Sam came around the Impala and opened my door for me. I shut the mirror and flipped the visor back up and slid out, pulling the t-shirt back down where it had ridden up. As he shuts the door I lace my fingers through his free hand. We walk into the restaurant, where we’re seated and given menus.

We order a huge calzone to share, and we make small talk until it arrives. Once it does, I dive in, savoring every mouthful. Sam knows better than to talk to me while I’m eating, because my mouth is constantly full. We both finish around the same time. He reaches across the table and takes on of my hands in his, and I feel small and safe. The server comes, and the small feeling is taken away, but I still feel safe because I always feel safe with Sam. He pays for our meal and we walk out to the car. Since I don’t get the chance, I slid into the driver’s seat, affectionately patting the dashboard of the Impala. Sam, rolling his eyes, slides into the passenger seat. I start the car and double check that nothing’s behind us before backing up.

Halfway to the bunker, Sam asks, “You thought about any names?” I wish he hadn’t brought this up while driving, because we tend not to agree on things. “If we have a girl I was thinking maybe Amelia or Bella,” I tell him, pointedly keeping my eyes on the road. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see him smile. “I like Amelia, but I’d like it if we didn’t go with Bella.” I smile wryly. “Is it because of Bela Talbot?” I inquire. He nods and I can’t help smirking. We lapse into silence for a few minutes. “What about boy’s names?” he asks.

I lean forward slightly, holding myself over the steering wheel. I, as an avid fan of many things, had given quite a bit of thought to boy names for a future child, but I was afraid that Sam wouldn’t like them. I hesitated so long that he poked my thigh. “Earth to Callie,” he says teasingly. I flash him a quick smirk before returning my eyes to the road. “I was thinking maybe, um, Loki. Or even Sherlock.” He stares at me for a moment. “We should name our son Loki,” he tells me. I laugh, taking one hand off the steering wheel and placing it on my belly. “We don’t know if we have a son yet,” I remind him.

Flicking the turn signal on, I turn down the dirt road that leads to the bunker, pulling to a stop outside the garage. I don’t trust myself enough not to mess up, with the Impala being so much bigger than my own little bug. I jump out of the car and go around the back to the trunk and grab several shopping bags before Sam can make it to the trunk. Seeing as I’ve got most of them, he glares. “You should take it is,” he tells me. I scoff and roll my eyes. “It won’t hurt the baby if I carry six bags of clothes. They’re not even that heavy,” I shoot back. He smiles reluctantly at me. “I guess you’re right,” he concedes, and I’m surprised that he doesn’t argue with me as he takes the remaining bags out of the trunk and shuts it.

Upon entering the bunker, all I hear is loud voices. It takes me a moment to focus in on them and figure out what they’re saying. There’s three of them, two male voices and one female voice and I instantly recognize Dean and Castiel’s. “You left me, Cas! It wasn’t like we were together when I slept with her!” he screams. I drop the bags off on the counter and make my way into the living room, where they’re standing and yelling. “I only left you because I don’t understand how this stuff even works,” Cas yells back, “I can’t believe you didn’t realize that! But no, I leave because I don’t understand, and the first thing you do is sleep with some cheap whore!” Before I can be offended by what he just called Erin, she pushes past Dean. “I am not a cheap whore, you bastard angel. You’re just pissed because your ex-boyfriend wanted comfort because you left him high and dry once more and I’m the one who was there.” Castiel, looking enraged, takes a step forward, giving Erin a murderous look that I’ve never seen on him.

I march into the middle of the living room and push my way between the three of them. “That’s enough,” I snarled, “you’re all acting like children and it’s bullshit.” Dean backs away from me, looking slightly afraid. Good, I think, he should be afraid. I happen to glance down just then, and I notice the red stain spreading across the crotch of my jeans. I gasp and stumble away, clutching my stomach, terrified because I just know that I’m having a miscarriage. “Come on, we have to get you to the hospital,” Dean says, picking me up before I can protest and practically running to the Impala, which is, thankfully, still outside.

I’m afraid, and I have never been more afraid in my life. Castiel piles into the driver’s seat, and Dean doesn’t say anything as Sam sits in the middle of the backseat, Erin and I taking the window seats. I’m working hard to keep from having an honest-to-God panic attack while Dean speeds down the small dirt road and onto the main one.

We reach the hospital in ten minutes. It’s normally a thirty minute drive, and I’m really struggling not to hyperventilate. Sam goes in first, urgency in every single movement. Erin scoots closer to me, leaning across and opening the door before my stomach heaves and I throw up in the parking lot. Dean’s out of the car as I do, and the moment I stop he’s helping me out of the car. There’s a slight smear of blood on the seat and Erin waves us into the hospital, quickly telling us she’ll clean it up.

Sam meets us at the door with a pretty black-haired nurse pushing a wheelchair. “Just sit down, darling, and we’ll get you taken care of,” the nurse says. I almost snap at her and tell her that I can walk, but Sam gently pushes me into the wheelchair, so I don’t say anything, and let her push me down the hall to the ER. It’s empty, and the nurse helps me out of the chair and onto a bed. Sam hovers at my shoulder as I lean back and she wheels the ultrasound equipment over. Dean’s standing nervously at the foot of the bed, and I want to yell at them not to hover, but I’m scared, too scared.

Tugging my shirt up, the nurse smears the cold gel on it and immediately begins the ultrasound. I reach out and take Sam’s hand, biting my lip and forcing my breathing to remain normal. A few minutes later, I hear two heartbeats, loud and strong. I let out a deep breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. The nurse moved the stick a few inches and gave me a smile. “Ms. Martin, it looks like this was a false alarm. Both the babies are perfectly fine,” she tells me. I smile back, relieved. “But what about the blood?” Sam asks urgently. “She’s just spotting. It’s absolutely normal. She’s got a lot of extra blood in her body right now. I recommend wearing a panty-liner to keep from ruining any clothes.” I close my eyes briefly, my relief nearly overwhelming.

As much as I didn’t want this pregnancy, I was so scared that it was over too soon.


	17. I'm Going to Kill You

As soon as the ultrasound was over, I was sent home. I was still bleeding a little, and Dean managed to get a cotton pad from the hospital and lay it on my seat, protecting the Impala. We all got settled in Sam sitting in the front seat next to Dean. He was more of a mess than I was, which I would have found amusing if not for the reason. Cas ended up sitting next to me, squashed in the middle between me and Erin. Dean, naturally, drove, his face hard, like he didn’t have any emotions. I, however, was practically smothered by his worry and anxiety. I knew most of it was worrying about me rather than the twins, and I understood why he was so concerned, but it was a little ridiculous by how much he was worrying.

We had just pulled into the bunker’s garage when Cas suddenly sat up straight, as if remembering something. I’d already unbuckled and opened the door when he did it, so I stopped and turned to look at him. “What is it?” I ask. He turned to me, looking sheepish. “I can sense the twins,” he whispers, almost so quietly that I can’t hear him. “I could sense them the entire time. I knew they were fine, but I, um, was so…concerned that I didn’t realize,” he blurts out, talking fast and quietly. I freeze, my emotions battling between amused; angry; and relieved that he could sense them.

Anger one out and before I could stop myself I slapped him hard enough that my hand tingled. I would have done more but Sam was standing by the door and reached down, picking me up and awkwardly maneuvering me out the door, even though I was struggling and screaming. “You absolute idiot, Cas,” I screeched, “I was in a panic and you knew the twins were okay!” Sam put his hand over my mouth to shut me up, and in that instant, all the anger faded and I could see Cas, looking guilty and apologetic, and slightly hurt.

“Calypso Jamie Martin that is enough,” he says sternly, and I’m shocked and surprised that he even knew my full name, much less used it. Slowly he lowers his hand from my mouth and I instinctively lick my lips, realizing in the back of my mind that they taste like Sam. I turn to Cas, who has, at this point, clambered out of the car, still looking upset. I reach out and touch his arm hesitantly, thankful when he doesn’t flinch away. I step closer until I’m looking in his eyes, reaching out and tilting his face up so that he meets my gaze.

“Cas, I’m sorry. We were all scared, and if I could have sensed them, I probably would have forgotten too. I really am sorry for hitting you and yelling at you,” I say, as sincerely as I can manage. It is true, and I am sorry, but I’ve never really been able to sound all that sincere. He looks up at me with his puppy-dog eyes and I realize that he’s shorter than me. He radiated so much power that he always seemed much taller than he actually was. I let my hand drop awkwardly to my side, noting that Erin and Dean had disappeared into the house. Sam put his hand on the small of my back, and with Castiel leading the way, we walked into the main part of the bunker.

"I’m going to, um, go get cleaned up,” I murmur, slipping past them into my room. Sam follows me, propping himself up in the doorway. “Do you want me to help?” he asks. I give him a smile and, with a change of clothes in hand, walk up to him and give him a quick peck to the lips. “No, thank you, darling,” I say, and he smiles, pushing my hair back. “You’re so beautiful, Callie. How did I ever persuade you to hook up with me?” he says, a look of complete tenderness on his face. These moments didn’t happen often, so I tossed the clothes on the bed and cupped his face with my now-free hand.

“Because you’re persistent. And because life is short, and you’re hot,” I tell him, cracking a smile. He leans down and kisses me, a long, deep, drawn-out kiss with no sexual intent. I kiss him back, leaning up on my tip-toes and lacing my fingers through his hair. He pulls back, resting his forehead against mine. “I really love you, Calypso,” he tells me, his voice soft and quite and full of emotion. I could tell if the overwhelming emotions I felt welling up inside me were mine or his, or both, but I knew that I loved him too, so I told him. “I love you too, Sam. And I suppose I have since that first night.” A soft smile flits across his face and I kiss him again, quickly. His right hand travels down from my shoulder and comes to rest across my slightly bulging stomach.

“I already love them too, you know,” he tells me, matter-of-factly. I smile at him, and even though I’m bleeding, and it’s sticky and wet and warm and gross, I’m in no hurry to move. “I do, too. I didn’t think I did, but I do,” I whisper, the words flitting out of my mouth quickly. He kisses me gently. “We didn’t decide to do this, but it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I mean, I get a wonderful woman that’s damn near perfect, and two children out of the deal.” I reach up and wipe at my tear-filled eyes, touched. Sam usually doesn’t express his feelings, although he’s better at doing it than Dean. “And I get a man who isn’t anywhere close to perfect, but he’s perfect for me,” I tell him, smiling broadly. He smiles back. “Is that the best you can do, Miss Martin?” he teases, curling a strand of my hair around his finger.

My smile turns into a smirk. “Oh, I could do much better, but it’d be so disgustingly sweet that we’d both get diabetes.” He laughs, and I join in, and it feels so good that we keep laughing, even though it wasn’t that funny, and my stomach starts to hurt from laughing so hard. I look up at him, and I notice how beautiful he is, his dark hair falling into his face, his eyes lit up with happiness, a wide grin stretched across his face. I let my eyes linger on him, so full of emotions that I feel like my heart is going to burst.

We stop laughing gradually, a smile still on my face as I pick up the clothes I’d gathered, making my way to the bathroom. I shut the door behind me, peeling off my dirty clothes and going ahead and throwing them away. They were caked with blood anyway. I start the water in the shower and wait for it to warm up, grabbing a liner out of the bathroom cupboard as I wait and laying it out on the sink. By the time I do that, the water’s warm, so I step inside and wash the blood and the hospital smell off me. Even though I hadn’t been there long, the smell clung to me, as did the disgustingly sticky gel they used for the ultrasound.

My shower was quick, lasting about five minutes, and I got out and got dressed, making sure to put the liner in my panties. I didn’t want another scare like today. I couldn’t handle it. Going back in the room, I’m instantly aware that Sam isn’t in there, and from the kitchen I can hear a faint laughter. Part of me wants to go into the kitchen and join everyone else, but I’m emotionally drained in a way that takes away all my motivation for anything, so I just shut the door and slip under the covers, curling up under them in a little ball. I drift asleep quickly.


	18. The Hunt Begins

The next morning, while Sam is still asleep, I decide to check my old email, the one I had, well, before. I still have the login information memorized. I’m not sure why I decided to do it, but I was feeling oddly sentimental upon waking. Making sure I wouldn’t wake Sam up, I got my laptop and went to the library, plugging it in even though it was fully charged. I didn’t know how long I would be sitting there, looking at the pieces of who I was before.

Upon opening my email, I was surprised to see new emails from recently, all of them from my old best friend, Eliza Johnson. I click the newest one and start reading.

Calypso,

It’s been four years and I know it’s ridiculous of me to be trying

to contact you after all this time. But I need a favor. I know you’re alive, because I’ve been paying attention. I know you live a different life now, and I know it had something to do with Ellie. I don’t know what happened, but I know that they found her ripped apart. Nothing human could do that. Just like nothing human could be causing the problems here now.

I don’t live in our old town anymore either, just so you know. Whatever it was hasn’t been back, I don’t think. The news reports have been the normal shit from there. Anyways, I’ve moved to a small town in Missouri, and some weird shit has been happening here. I don’t know if you check this ancient email address, but it’s my only chance to get in contact with you, and I’m desperate. Please, Lypso. I miss you, and I need your help.

Love, Eliza.

I wonder what’s happened with Eliza to cause her to contact me. Clicking over to the other emails from her, I see they’re all pretty much the same. Switching back to the most recent one, I compose a reply telling her I’m willing to help if I can get directions, and that I’m in Kansas. I keep my email short, and I don’t tell her about what really happened to Ellie, or about Sam and Dean and Cas, or my pregnancy, or anything. I know if I did, it’d end up being too long to send and then I wouldn’t send one at all. Minutes after I’ve sent it, my computer pings with a response.

She didn’t say anything, just attached a map and a phone number. Before I can stop myself, I pick up my cell phone and dial. She answers on the third ring. “Calypso?” she asks, and I can tell my name slipped out before she could stop herself. “Eliza. It’s me,” I tell her, my voice strangled. I can almost feel her relief like a tangible thing as she lets out a huge sob. “Oh, Lypso! You have to come up. Please, I need you.” I can feel the tears rolling down my face as I let out a shaky breath. “I’ll come, I swear,” I say, standing and getting ready to pack. “Can we talk now? Not about why you need to come. But about everything else?” she asks, her voice small and timid. I can feel myself smile. “Please.”

She tells me that she’s not gotten married, and that she’s still the social recluse she always was in high school, and that kind of dating this guy named Evan Jones, and that she misses me. I tell her a little about Sam and Dean, and how I’ve been working with them ever since that night. I tell her what really killed Ellie, and I tell her what my new job is. I tell her about my engagement, and about my pregnancy, and how I’m having twins, and how none of it was planned, and how I’ve missed her so much. We’re on the phone for three hours, and throughout the entire conversation we’re both sobbing. I hear the library door open. “Shit, Eliza, I gotta go. I need to pack and everything. I’ll see you in a couple days,” I say, wiping at my eyes. “A couple days? It’ll take at least one to get ready and then four to get here, won’t it?” she asks. I chuckle. “Not the way I do it.” I can picture her face, as it was four years ago, slightly pudgy and largely innocent. “Bye, Lypso. I’ll see you when you get here,” she tells me. I hang up just as Sam rounds the corner, his eyes widening when he sees my tear-stained face.

“What’s happened?” he asks frantically, moving to sit next to me. I crawl into his lap and kiss him softly. “Promise you’ll listen without interrupting?” I ask. He sighs, but agrees. “Okay, so I decided to check my old email account this morning. I’d gotten several recent emails from my old best friend, Eliza Johnson. She’s having some trouble. I was on the phone with her just now. She’s given me directions to her house in Missouri. There’s a job there, I just know it. We spent the last three hours getting caught up.”

He tenses beneath me. “You aren’t going,” he breathes. I push myself off his lap and glare down at him. “What the fuck do you mean?” I hiss. “I mean that you aren’t going. You’re pregnant, and it’s dangerous,” he tells me, keeping his voice gentle but stern. I cross my arms in front of my chest. “No. I’m not sitting this one out, Sam. I’m pregnant, not breakable. I’m still just as capable as I was before you knocked me up.” He stares at me wordlessly. Unable to take it, I stalk out of the library and start packing. A few minutes later, he steps in. “I’m going with you.” I nod, and go over to him, kissing him lightly and quickly. “She knows about you. I’m pretty sure she expects you to come as well.” He nods, and hurriedly packs. I’ve finished packing before he does, and I stop by Dean’s room on the way to my car. He pulls his headphones off the moment the door opens.

“Sam and I are going on a job,” I tell him. “When are you leaving?” he asks, sitting up straight. “Now.” He closes his eyes and sighs. “Take the Impala.” I glance at him, surprised. “It’s for good luck. You need it, both of you. And, Callie? You better be careful,” he tells me. I smile at him and go over to him, pecking his cheek lightly. “I will be. Thanks for letting me take the Impala.” I take the keys from the end table and leave the room.

Sam’s waiting for me in the living room. “I’m not happy about this,” he tells me. I shrug. “Dean said we could take the Impala. I’ll drive, I’ve got the map.” He just nods, and I feel a twinge of guilt. I shake it off and lead the way to the Impala. I know how unhappy Sam is with me going on a hunt, but I couldn’t be happier. After four years, I couldn’t take the normal life. I was too used to the constant threat of death hanging over me, and to be honest, I missed the drama.

We were silent for the first two hours in the car, and I feel kind of bad. Sam just wants to protect me and the twins. After two hours of trying to talk myself into feeling better, I sigh, and reach over, taking his hand. I run my thumb along his knuckles, glancing over at him briefly before returning my attention to the road. “I’m sorry, Sam. I know you’re just trying to protect me,” I say, my voice soft, yet loud in the deafening silence of the Impala. He takes my hand and squeezes it gently. “It’s okay, Callie. You’re a hunter, you should hunt. I guess I’m just scared. I’m new to this, and I love you, and I love the twins already, and I’m afraid something will happen you or them.” His voice is quite, so quite I can barely hear him. Glancing at the surroundings, I note that we’re on an empty road in the middle of nowhere. I pull over onto the shoulder and cut the engine, awkwardly crawling into his lap and leaning over him.

“I’m scared too,” I admit. “I’m afraid that I’m going to do something wrong and hurt the babies. I’m afraid that I’m going to do something reckless and get hurt, and hurt the twins in the process. I’m worried that I’ll do everything I can to make sure everything goes right, and something will still go wrong. I’m worried you’ll decide this is a mistake and take back the ring. I’m worried about pretty much everything,” I tell him. He leans forward and kisses me deeply, and I can’t stop myself from running my tongue along his bottom lip. He tastes familiar, and wonderful, and I can feel a need for him rising up in my core. He nips my bottom lip gently and I let out a moan, pressing against him. He chuckles and pulls away, looking up at me. “God, I love you,” he says, then sobers up, reaching up and cupping my face, running his thumb along my cheek. “I promise that I will never leave you.” I smile at him, leaning forward to kiss him again.

He groans as my lips touch his. “Do you really want to do this here?” he asks, when I finally pull back and reach to unbuckle him. I pause, considering. We’re in the middle of nowhere, and I doubt anyone will come by. If anyone does come by, I doubt they’ll recognize us, and we’re safely parked. I nod shyly. “I’d like to do it in the backseat though,” I say, biting my lip. His eyes darken and I scramble off him into the backseat, taking my shirt off as I go. He unbuckles and joins me, pinning me against the door in a kiss. He reaches behind me and undoes my bra. Just as he leans down, his phone rings from the front seat. I groan as he looks towards it, then shrugs and moves back towards me. “Whoever that is can wait,” he tells me firmly. I smirk and tangle my fingers in his hair.


	19. When An Angel Calls

What happened in the backseat of the Impala happened fast, and I really hoped Dean wouldn’t find out about it. After that, we each adjusted our clothes and got back in the seats we’d been in before, me rolling the windows down to get the smell out of the car. We still rode mostly in silence, but I didn’t feel bad anymore, and it was a more comfortable silence. Halfway to the town in Missouri, Sam reached out and flipped the radio on and turning up the volume, letting the sound of Fall Out Boy fill the car. I reached over and took his hand as I drove.

We drove pretty much constantly. We took a few stops to use the bathroom, get food, and change drivers, but other than that, we didn’t stop. So around noon the next day, we pulled into town. I stretched, relishing the fact that our journey was practically over for a while. Reaching for my phone, I dialed Eliza’s number. We were parked in front of the town’s courthouse, a faded sign next to us reading “Welcome to the town of Ridgeway.”

She picked up on the third ring. “Lypso?” she asked, immediately. I wished I hadn’t had to just up and leave her, but I’d had a good reason. “Yeah,” I answer, feeling a little awkward. “Where are you?” she asks, her voice careful and controlled. “In front of the courthouse,” I tell her. There’s a pause. “All right. When you pull out, go left to the first light. Turn right then, and my driveway is the second one. It’s on the left.” I nod, even though she can’t see me. “We’ll be there soon. We’re in a black ’67 Chevy Impala,” I tell her. “Okay. See you soon. Bye,” she says, hanging up before I can reply. Maybe it’s been too long since I’ve seen her for us to ever repair our relationship.

I start the engine back up and turn the car around, looking down the street. Looking for traffic, I notice that the town is damn near empty. There’s no cars in sight besides the Impala. I shrug it off and turn left, making it to the light in two minutes. Once again, nothing’s there and I’ve got a green light. I turn right and it’s only a few seconds before I see Eliza’s driveway. I pull in and cut the engine, taking a deep breath and glancing over at Sam. He leans over and gives me a quick kiss. “I love you,” he tells me. I smile and squeeze his hand. “I love you too.”

By the time we get out of the car, Eliza’s waiting on the porch for us. For a second, we just stand there, staring at each other, then she runs over and slams into me, wrapping her arms around my neck. I stagger back, wrapping my arms around her and holding her tightly. “It’s been so long,” she whispers, and I can tell she’s close to crying. I smile sadly at her. “It has,” I agree. She clears her throat and steps back. “I only have one spare bedroom, and the bed’s pretty small. I didn’t expect to have many visitors when I bought the place,” she says, apologetically. “I can pay for a hotel room if you don’t want to stay here,” she says. Sam walks up behind me, placing one hand on the small of my back.

“Callie should stay here. I can pay for a room down at the hotel easy, but you two probably want to do some catching up,” he says. Eliza beams at him. “Oh, that would be wonderful! You’re welcome here at any time, of course,” she says, smiling brilliantly. He grins and gets my bag out of the car. “I’ll go ahead and check in and get a few hours of sleep. You two do whatever, and I’ll text Callie when I wake up.” Eliza nods and takes my bag before I can. “I can get that,” I tell her, embarrassed. She grins. “Nonsense. You’re a guest. I’m going to treat you like royalty.” I grin back as she goes inside with my bag, turning to Sam.

I lean up on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck. “I’m going to miss you,” I whisper in his ear, feeling oddly emotional. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. “I’m not going to be far, or gone long,” he tells me. “I know,” I sigh. He kisses me quickly and gives me a reassuring smile. “I’ll miss you too, though.” I smile at him and wave, feeling childish, as he goes back to the Impala, closing the trunk and getting in. 

I force myself to turn and follow Eliza into the house. It’s small and uncluttered, the floors a pale wood and the walls a beige color. She’s standing by the hallway, my bag nowhere in sight. “I went ahead and took your bag to your room. I figured you were tired,” she tells me. I smile. “Thank you,” I tell her, as she leads the way to my room, pointing inside it. “The television remote is on top of the dresser. I’ll see you when you wake up. If you can’t find me, text me. I’ll keep my phone with me.” I nod, and lean forward and give her a brief, slightly awkward hug. I thank her once more and then she leaves, shutting the door behind her.

I’m tired, but I do want to watch a little bit of television first. I pick up the remote and lay on the small bed, kicking my shoes off as I sat down. I turn the television on and turn it to the local news. I watch that until I start to drift off, the weatherman’s mumbling fading away.

I glance up at the screen and see a woman perching suggestively on a bed. “Sometimes, after a long day of work and stress, I need a little bit of Casa Erotica.” I sit up, my heart jumping into my throat. This happened before, a long time ago. It can’t be. A few seconds later, the door on the television opens and he comes onscreen. “It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?” he says, and I know he’s speaking to me. “You ass,” I whisper, my lips stretching into a grin that I can’t prevent. Suddenly the television screen goes dark, and he’s standing next to me. 

“I need your help, Cal,” he says. I stand up and crane my hand to look up at him. “I thought you were dead,” I whisper. He smirks, pointing to his face. “I'm called the Trickster for a reason."


	20. Goddammit

I didn’t know whether to launch myself at Gabriel in a hug or slam my fist into his face. I go for the first option, slamming into him with enough force to knock him onto the bed. He pushes us back into the sitting position, with me still clinging to him. I curl up in his lap and he wraps his arms around me, and I feel safe again, like a small child with a parent comforts them from a nightmare. “Why’d you abandon us like that?” I ask, my already soft voice muffled by his chest.

“I knew I didn’t have a chance killing Lucifer. I didn’t want to just tell you what to do, because I couldn’t help. I can’t stand the horsemen, a thing that goes way back, and I didn’t want you to mark me as a coward. So I pretended to die, and went to Heaven and hid. I kept watch over all of you.” I glance up at him, feeling kind of sorry for myself and pretty weepy. “Didn’t you hear me? I prayed to you, Gabriel. Every night. I thought you were dead, and I still prayed to you, because you’re the Trickster, and we’d already attempted to kill you so many times,” I say, my bottom lip trembling. Normally, I would have done anything in my power to stop that, but I was with Gabriel, and, well, Gabe was an exception for a lot of things.

He reaches up and wipes a nonexistent tear away. It feels nice, having him back, being curled up on his lap. “I heard you. But you were doing just fine, and I kind of owed to Sam to give you two a chance to get together,” Gabriel tells me. I haul myself off of his back, a hand to my stomach. “Yeah? Well now I feel forced into marrying him because we were stupid and I got knocked up. You could have stopped it by staying, Gabriel. You know how I felt, and feel, about motherhood,” I hiss, keeping my voice low so Eliza wouldn’t hear.

“Motherhood is just what you need, Calypso. It’ll teach you that emotions aren’t bad and that it isn’t your job to save the world,” he tells me, his voice stern and slightly condescending. “Shut the fuck up,” I snarl. “That wasn’t anyone to decide except for me. If I want to think it’s my job to save the entire fucking world, I goddamned will. I don’t want these babies, and that’s not exactly great for my family life,” I spit. He starts. “Babies? As in, more than one?” he asks. I nod, crossing my arms over my chest, then immediately uncrossing them because my breasts are sore. “Twins. I’m ten weeks along, I’m already showing, and I fucking hate pregnancy,” I growl, making sure to take care and keep my voice low.

Gabriel stands up. “I should have stayed,” he mumbled. “Damn right you should have,” I snarl. He reaches up and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear, making me freeze. “I should have stayed because an archangel cannot produce a child with a human. You wouldn’t have been alone, but you wouldn’t have had to deal with pregnancy, either.” My breath hitches in my throat, and I think about Sam. Sam, I love Sam. I don’t love Gabriel. I will not betray Sam. I am engaged to Sam. I want Gabriel. No, I mean, I want Gabe, goddammit, no, I want Sam.

As if Gabriel could sense my inner turmoil, he leans forward and kisses me. I can’t help myself, I kiss back. I hate the fact that I’m just a stereotypical, whimpering, disgusting female who can’t control herself. I hate the fact that I’m engaged to Sam and kissing Gabriel while he pushes me firmly against the wall. I’m disgusting by the hand Gabriel’s dragging up my side, knowing that’s one of my weaknesses. I hate the way my knees buckle. I hate the way Gabriel lifts me up and, as if by their own accord, my legs wrap around his waist. Most of all, I hate the way that I pull him closer instead of pushing him away, gripping the collar of his shirt so tight that my engagement ring bites into my finger.


	21. I Really Am Sorry

He kissed me for what seemed like a long time, finally stepping back. I slid down the wall, my breath coming in quick gasps. I hated myself in that moment. “Now, I need your help,” Gabriel says. I glare up at him. “And why the hell should I help you?” I ask, for once completely out of my element. “Because it’s your problem too,” he says. I force myself to stand up, my arms crossed over my stomach. I felt exposed, under protected. I wanted Sam in that moment more than I’ve ever wanted anything. Which was ironic, considering I’d just made out with Gabriel. “What is it then?” I asked, irritable because I was so mad at myself. “Your children and their father,” he answered.

I slammed him against the wall. “Stop giving me half-assed answers, and give me a real one,” I say, forcing every word out. “Sam isn’t himself,” he responded, snapping his fingers and disappearing. I let out a frustrated groan and reached for my phone. I hesitated, torn between calling Sam and just going out to find him. I decided to send him a text. Still awake? I ask.

Seconds later, I receive a reply telling me he is. I call him immediately. “Callie? Is something wrong?” he asks sleepily, and I can tell that while he was still awake he had almost not been. “I just…I really want to see you right now,” I say softly. “Okay,” he says, “okay. I’ll come get you.” I take a deep breath. “Can you pick me up at the end of the road? Eliza thinks I’m asleep and I don’t want to disturb her so I’m going to climb out the window,” I tell him, biting my lip. “Of course. I’ll be there in, like, five minutes.” He hangs up and I put my phone in my pocket, crawling onto the bed and opening the window. It’s fairly easy to climb out, since I’m kinda used to doing stuff like this.

I walk down to the end of the road as fast as I can, just short of jogging, and when I get there, Sam’s waiting on me and I’m out of breath. He’s leaning up against the Impala, clearly struggling to stay awake, and I launch myself at him in a hug. I feel his strong arms wrap around me immediately and I feel safe. Looking up at him, I wonder what Gabriel meant by his earlier comment. It unsettled me, but in Sam’s arms, it doesn’t matter.

"What’s wrong? And don’t tell me that you missed me, because it’s obviously something more than that,” he asks. “Gabriel’s back,” I whisper, shame flooding me. Sam’s arms tighten around me. “What happened?” he demands. “He…I kissed him,” I say, feeling just as horrible once the words are out of my mouth. “Damn archangel,” Sam snarls, then leans down and kisses me roughly. Part of me wants him to take me, right here, five minutes from Eliza’s house and two feet from the road. I kiss him back desperately. “I love you, Sam,” I whisper hopelessly as he pulls back. He pulls me to him and I snuggle against his chest. “It’s okay, Callie. I love you too. Gabriel has a thing for pretty women. And you’re the prettiest,” he tells me.

I look up at him bashfully. “Are you sure you aren’t mad?” I ask. He gives me a crooked smile. “Of course not.” He blinks, and I swear for a second I could see his eyes go black. They’re back to normal immediately, so I write it off as an overactive imagination due to Gabriel’s earlier comment. “I don’t want to leave you yet,” I say, my voice still small and soft. He reaches up and pushes my hair out of my eyes. “Then don’t.” He turns, lifting my up onto the hood of the Impala and stands between my legs. I rest my forehead against his, spinning my engagement ring around my finger.

“Are you feeling all right?” he asks, running a thumb up and down my arm. “Yeah, I just…I really fucking love you,” I say. He smiles softly. “I really fucking love you too, Calypso,” he whispers, and I feel content in that moment. Subconsciously, I reach down and splay one of my hands over my stomach. Sam puts one of his hands over mine, looking down at me with a smile on his face. I reach up with my other hand and push his hair back.

“You must be really tired,” I say softly, holding his hair out of his face. He smiles. “I kinda am,” he admits. I smile at him, kissing him softly. “I can go back and let you go to your hotel and sleep,” I offer. “Do you still need me?” he asks. I kiss him again. “I’ll always need you, Sam. But I’ll be fine, you go sleep.” He hesitates, and then kisses me once more and steps back, letting me slide off the Impala. “Text me when you wake up,” I say, and he nods before clambering into the car. I turn and make my way up the road, towards Eliza’s house.

It takes me a lot longer than five minutes to get back to the window, and it’s harder to climb inside. When I finally heave myself over the windowsill and flop onto the bed, I glance over at the door and see Gabriel leaned against it. It’s so unexpected that I almost scream, jumping and putting my hand over my mouth. “You reek of demon,” he says disdainfully. I frown, confused. “I’ve not been near a demon in months,” I say, puzzled. “Oh, sweetie, you don’t realize that you’re engaged to a demon.” I shake my head. “No, I’m engaged to Sam.” Gabriel shakes his head. “How thick are you?”


	22. What Do I Do?

"What do you mean?" I demand, already knowing the answer with a sinking feeling in my gut. "Your precious Sam Winchester's been possessed by a demon, stupid," Gabriel growls at me. "When?" I demand, my hand drifting to my stomach. "Before conception. I'm sorry, Cal," Gabriel says, his tone a lot more gentle now. I rake my hand through my hair. "So, what does that mean?" I ask, sighing. My first though, of course, is that my children are the antichrist, but Sam and Dean already ran into the antichrist child. "Your children will be more human than most demons, but they will be demons. They won't know unless you tell them, and I suggest you get Sam back real quick before the demon wearing him realizes that you know." 

I bite back some tears. I don't know when I became so weepy. "I need to call Dean and pray to Cas," I say, forcing myself to think rationally. Gabriel nods, reaches out, and pats my face. "I'll be back eventually. Don't let on to the demon that you know," he tells me, then snaps his fingers and vanishes. Great. I'm alone to deal with the new information that my finacee is a demon and my children are going to be demons as well. Just fucking fantastic. I reach for my cell phone just as it rings, Dean's name lighting up the screen. Well, that was fortunate. "Dean?" I answer, somewhat warily. 

"Callie, thank God. I've been trying to call for the last fifteen minutes but my phone screwed up. I just wanted to check in with you. Know anything yet?" he asks, and I can hear the concern in his voice. A small smile works it's way onto my face, despite everything. "Yeah, I do, but not about the case. I'm not comfortable sharing this on the phone, so could you make your way out here in my car?" I ask. I know I'm asking a huge favour, especially without giving Dean any other information, but I have faith that Dean will get in the car while still on the phone to me and start driving. "Yeah, I just gotta grab the keys and my bag and I'll be on my way," he says, and I can hear him moving stuff around to get to the bag the he keeps under the bed. 

"Thank you, Dean," I say, full of relief. I may be in a pretty fucked up situation, but at least Dean's there for me like he always is. "Anytime, sweetie," he tells me, followed by a grunt as he jumps up, bag in hand. I know Dean better than I know myself, and I take comfort in that now. "I'll call Cas and get him here," I say, and I can almost picture Dean nodding before remembering that I can't see him. "Yeah, well, I'll see you in a few days, kiddo. Call me if you need anything else," he tells me, and with that, he hands up. Still smiling slightly, I lean back and close my eyes. 

Hey, Cas, I think, trying my best to, well, pray. I'm not much of the praying type. I know we aren't that close, but I really need your help. See, Gabriel came back. He just showed up and he told me something that scares the living shit out of me. He says that Sam's a demon, and was before...conception occured, so my babies are going to be demons as well. I don't know what to do, Cas. I already called Dean, and he's on his way- And right then Castiel's voice interupts me. 

"It'll be okay, Calypso. I'm glad you called me, I can help. I'll just stay with you the entire time, and when Gabriel shows back up I can tell you if it's really him. I can also try my best to help with the Sam situation," he tells me, giving me a reassuring smile. I reach out and pat his hand, feeling kinda awkward. "Thanks, Cas. You're the best angel in the garrison," I say, giving him a crooked smile. "I don't know about that," he tells me, returning the smile. At least his social skills have improved.


	23. Another Plot Twist

As Castiel takes a seat uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, I wonder how I'm going to explain his existence to Eliza. How am I going to explain anything else to Eliza, in all actuality. Awkwardly, Castiel pulls me into a hug that I'm sure is meant to comfort me. "It'll be okay, Calypso," he tells me as I pull back. I give him a crooked smile and pat his leg awkwardly. "I'm going to go talk to Eliza. You stay here for a bit. Listen in, when I explain about you come on in," I say. Castiel nods and I open the door, shutting it behind me.

I can hear the television in the living room, quietly playing a theme song that I haven't heard in awhile. Instead of the familiar intro, though, I see that it's changed as I walk into the living room. Eliza is sitting on the couch, paying rapt attention to the opening credits of the show. She doesn't really notice that I sit down until I ask, "So who's the new Doctor?" She jumps slightly, but doesn't turn to look at me. "Peter Capaldi. You missed Matt Smith's entire era. But this is just a rerun of one of the episodes in his time. The new season with Capaldi doesn't start until August. You've got enough time to catch up," she says.

I vaguely remember the first episode of season 5, when they introduced the new Doctor. I'd fallen in love with him immediately, and then two days later my little sister had been murdered and the Winchester brothers had saved me. With everything that had happened, I'd completely forgotten about Doctor Who.

I remembered that Castiel was sitting in my bedroom, by himself, waiting for me to mention him. I sent him a silent prayer telling him that I was sorry for getting distracted before turning to Eliza. "So, I've got something to tell you," I say quietly. Immediately she mutes the television and turns to me. "Yes?" she says. "Do you believe in angels?" I ask. She blinks, confused. "What does that have to do with anything?" she asks. Before I can respond, Castiel walks into the room. "There was one in my bedroom. He's gotten out now," I say. Eliza turns to gap at him. "He's really an angel?" she whispers.

"I was," Castiel responds. "I fell from Heaven to help Callie and the Winchesters. There was a short while that I was human," he tells her. I'm not sure why he felt the need to tell her all this, but I keep quiet about it. She reaches out to grab his hand and he pulls back sharply. "Who are you?" he hisses at her.

"Wouldn't you like to know, darling?" she asks, with a very un-Eliza smirk on her face. Automatically I flinch back. "I know who you are, Castiel. And I know that you're living on stolen grace. So I suggest you get out of my house before you and your pregnant little friend come to a very unpleasant end," she snarls. Reaching out, Castiel grabs my arm. With a flutter of wings, we're gone, on the side of a back rode not far from the bunker. Castiel collapses just as Dean roars past in my car, slamming on the brakes and coming to a halt.


	24. Hey There, Crowley

My car skidded forward a few feet while I did my best to catch Castiel. I swore; I wasn't as strong as I'd used to be I'd stopped for awhile. I managed to keep him from falling though, and in a few seconds Dean was by my side, relieving me of the burden. I swore again as I stood, a hand pressed tightly to my lower back. It fucking hurt, especially after having to hold up Castiel's weight, even though that had only lasted for a few seconds. Dean, meanwhile, was loading Castiel's comatose body into the backseat of my car, making sure he was comfortable with a tenderness that surprised me. Yeah, I knew Dean was capable of being gentle with someone, but it was Castiel and a few weeks ago he'd had a nasty breakup with the angel. I assumed he still had feelings for the man in the trenchcoat, but didn't pester him about because I too hated chick-flick moments. 

After he'd made sure Castiel was secure and comfortable in the backseat, he turned to me. "Why the sudden rush to get out?" he asks, closing the car door and leaning against it. "I-I'm not entirely sure. Castiel showed up and then I went out to talk to Eliza, to explain everything to her. But, uh, Castiel walked out before I was done explaining. Eliza went to shake his hand and he pulled back and asked who she was. She...she wasn't how she used to be. She threatened him, and me too. So Cas hauled ass and got us out of there. She mentioned something about stolen grace, so I guess he isn't doing as well as he'd lead us, well me at least, to believe," I tell him, running a hand through my hair and sighing. 

Dean grunted and pulled me into a brief hug. "We need Crowley," he muttered, and he wasn't happy about that. I, however, had nothing against Crowley and was perfectly fine with that. "Shall we wait until we're down there? Sam, or the demon inside of him, or whatever, will know something's up if I just disappear," I say softly, my stomach tightening at the thought of a demon possessing my fiancee. Dean shakes his head. "We can't go there. We have two enemies, and we don't even know what the hell one of 'em is. Call Sam. Tell him Eliza threatened you, you prayed to Castiel as a reflex, and he showed up and took you back here. It's not far from the truth, and we can always make sure Cas knows what the story is once he wakes up. We should have a couple days before Sam gets here, but you can go ahead and call Crowley, see if he's willing to help us." I nod and pull out my cell phone, dialing Sam's number without properly thinking about it. 

He picks up on the second ring. "Callie?" he asks, seeming surprised, but happy. My heart twisted when I remember that he isn't Sam at all, but a demon. "Sam," I say, relief seeping into my voice nonetheless, "listen, something happened. Eliza threatened me. I'm not sure why or how but I guess I prayed to Cas or he heard me or something and he was there. We...I don't know what she is. She knows Castiel, apparently, and she knows about his stolen grace. Anyways, Castiel hauled ass and got us both out of there, except he apparently wasn't strong enough to get us both out because he's comatose again and I'm back at the bunker," I say in a rush, glad to get it all out, even though I was lying to him. Although I suppose he was lying to me too, being a demon and all without telling me. 

"Whoa, Callie, slow down. So, what, do you think the call out here was a trap for you?" he asks. My breath catches is my throat. I hadn't thought of that, never even considered it. I didn't want to consider it. "I think it was. I don't think there was a case there after all, except Eliza herself. I don't think she was counting on Castiel to show up at the last moment and save me, because she was starting to get physical," I whimper. I glance at Dean. I know I'm veering from the truth, but he doesn't say anything, just watches me intently. I roll my eyes at him, although I'm very thankful that he's there. I chew on my lip out of habit; it's something I've always done when I'm nervous, and suddenly, I'm homesick for a life I hadn't lived in four years. I'd never been farther away from my old life, and all of sudden, I wanted it desperately. I pushed those thoughts out of my mind, even though a vauge sense of homesickness lingered. I blamed on the the pregnancy and turned my attention back to the phone conversation. 

"So, what? Do you want me to come back to the bunker?" Sam asks. I nod, even though he can't see me, and Dean chuckles a little. "Yes, please. I need you here, and I want you here," I say softly, and I hate him for being possessed by a demon. Sam swallows audiably, which brings a small smile to my face. "Okay. I'm getting in the Impala now. Not even going to bother checking out, I've already paid for a week. I'll be there in a couple of days. I love you," he tells me, and I know it's the end of our phone conversation. I want to hang up, but at the same time I don't want him to stop talking. I swallow and nod again. "Yeah, that's great. I love you too," I whisper, and he hangs up on me. I slip my phone into my pocket. "We should get back to the bunker before we call Crowley. I don't know what he'll do if we summon him on the side of the road," I suggest. Dean nods and automatically goes to the driver's side. I glance at Castiel lying in the backseat and slide into the passenger seat without saying anything. 

It took less than five minutes to get back to the bunker, and the first place I went was down in the basement, leaving Dean alone to take care of Castiel. He was more than capable, and I knew from experiance. Upon reaching the basement I took a deep breath and took out my phone. Crowley usually answered me, no matter what he was doing. I always chuckled to myself at his number, but this time I didn't. I felt an underlying urgency and just dialed. He picked up just before it went to voicemail. "What do you need?" he asked, although his tone wasn't as biting as it would have been if Sam or Dean had called. "I need you to get here. I'm in the bunker, the place where they kept you for so long. I've scratched off part of the devil's trap so you won't be forced to stay here. But I need your help, Crowley. Desperately," I say, feeling tears welling up in my eyes. "I'll be there in a few seconds, kiddo," Crowley responds, and before I can hang up, he's standing in front of me. 

I wipe my eyes and he reaches out, pulling me into a hug. It surprises me, demons haven't been known for showing affection, especially the King of Hell. "I can give you some blood if you still want it?" I offer dully, knowing that I'll just give him some of my own if he accepts. "I don't want blood. I'm, uh, clean," he says, awkwardly patting the back of my head. "What is it you need, love?" he asks. I sniffle and step back. "Sam's been possessed by a demon. Apparently he'd been possessed before I'd gotten pregnant and he's still a demon. I don't know what my babies are going to be because, oh, yeah, I'm having twins. I'm afraid and Sam's going to be here in a couple of days. Oh, and someone from my old life called a few days ago and said they knew something demon-y was up but when I got there Gabriel showed up and that's how I found out about Sam and then Eliza isn't human or something and she threatened us and I don't know what to do." 

By this time, I'm crying heavily. I don't want to cry, and I'm trying to stop, and it's just making me cry harder. Crowley sighs and sits down, pulling me with him. I curl up on his lap and I can't help myself. I start laughing hysterically because I'm sitting on the King of Hell's lap when a few years ago I didn't know any of this had ever existed. I had once been an athiest. I don't know what I was know. 

I curled up against Crowley and let him comfort me, although he wasn't sure what he was doing or what was happening. I was sure either, and I knew I hadn't made too much sense in my babbling. It took about thirty minutes for me to stop crying and he held me for another five so I could catch my breath. I hiccuped into his chest for a few more minutes before I'd finally composed myself. I sat up a little wiped my face, breathing heavily. "I'm sorry," I mumbled, running a hand through my hair, messing it up more rather than fixing it. Crowley chuckled and patted my leg. "It's fine, you're entitlted to it. You don't cry often. Anyone else would cry daily if they had to deal with half of what you do," he says, giving me a smile. I make no move to clamber off his lap, although I should. 

"So, Sam's possessed by a demon, and he was at the time of conception, yes?" Crowley asks. I nod fearly, a hand instinctively clutching at my stomach. "Well, you're having twins. In this case, one will usually be fully human and the other fully demon. Now, as to the problem with Sam, I can fix that. Fix the place you messed up in the trap and mess up another part in the center. I'll stand over that so he can't see him. Give me some red paint before he gets here and I'll paint over it once's he's inside. We'll both be trapped. Perform an exorcism on us both, then get my body out of the trap. I'll be back soon to claim it." I nod, it sounds reasonable.

Just then the door swings open and Dean walks inside. "For once, that's actually a decent plan of yours, Crowley." The demon smiles up at Dean and I finally clamber to my feet. "His phone's GPS is turned on, right?" I ask, and Dean of course knows that I'm talking about Sam. He nods. "Keep track of him. I'm going to take a shower and change into comfortable clothes, and then I'll cook something," I say. He nods and I scamper up the stairs, looking forward to my shower. My head is already pounding from crying, my muscles tense, and my hair more than messed up. Makeup was running down my face and I looked ridiculous. 

I let the warm water cascade over me, and just after I've lathered the shampoo into my hair, my phone rings with the ringtone for Sam. I lean out of the shower and pick it up, answering and putting him on speaker. "Hello?" I say, already ducking back in to rinse the suds out of my hair. "It's going to take me a little longer to get back. Nothing major, but apparently the bridge we went over is out. It, uh, smells like sulfur around here, so I'm going double check and make sure there's no case here. I'll be home as soon as I'm sure there's nothing. I love you, Callie, and I'm sorry that I'm gonna be staying longer," he says, and I smile despite myself. "It's okay. I love you too, Sammy, and I'll see you when you get back." He mutters a quick goodbye and hangs up. I don't think of anything too unusual until I go to step out of the shower and find myself standing face-to-face with Gabriel.


	25. Haven't You Ever Heard of a Thing Called Privacy

I recoiled from Gabriel, and before I could help myself I screamed. Gabriel clamped his hand over my mouth. "Shut up!" he hisses. I jerk back from him. "Get out!" I screech, reaching for a towel to cover myself. He laughs and turns around, making a show of it. I wrap a towel around myself and glare at Gabriel's back. Within a few seconds, Castiel rushes into the room. I glance at him. Castiel, is it really him? I ask, trying to think it in a prayerful manner. 

He gives me a slight nod. I let out of a sigh of relief. A few seconds behind Castiel is Dean. "Gabriel?" he asks, coming to a full stop. "Dean-o! Nice to see you too!" Gabriel exclaims with a smirk. I clear my throat. "Get out of the bathroom until I'm dressed," I order. Catching Dean's eye, he looks like he's about to argue. "I'm not asking. Get out. I'll be out soon enough." After staring at me for a second, all of them turn and file out, Castiel pulling the door shut behind him. 

I take a deep breath and rake my hands through my soaked hair, water dripping down my back. Grabbing another towel, I wrap my hair up and take a few more deep breaths to make myself calm down. Clutching my towel around me, I pick up my underwear from the pile of clothes on the counter. Letting the towel drop I pull my clothes on, the towel still wrapped around my hair. Looking in the mirror, I'm struck with a sudden bout of hysteria and almost start laughing. I manage to compose myself long enough to get dressed and blow-dry my hair. 

I drop my dirty clothes and the towels in the laundry basket, and take another deep breath before stepping outside the bathroom. Gabriel is sitting on the couch, competing with Dean on who can take up the most room. There wasn't any room left on that particular couch, so I went to the one opposite them and sat next to Castiel. No one spoke. I notixed Erin walk past the doorway, freeze, and back up to glance in again. Her eyes met mine and I gave her a subtle nod, letting her know it was okay if she wanted to listen in. She nodded back and stood just inside the doorway silently. I crossed my arms and glared at Gabriel, waiting for him to speak. 

"I see you've gone to another demon for help," he said coolly, after a few minutes of absolute silence. "Crowley's trustworthy. I've been going to him for help for around four years now, Gabriel," I reply icily, still glaring. "I was already helping. You didn't need to go to a demon, much less the King of Hell." For a second, I almost think I've hurt Gabriel's feelings. "You warned me. You didn't offer any advice or a plan. Crowley, however, gave me a plan. Something to work with. Surely you understand," I sat bitingly. Gabriel frowns. "I was going to give you a plan. Speaking of plans, by the way, what's the demon's plan? I'm sure mine's much better." I roll my eyes at him. Crowley's plan was, in my mind, fantastic. Sam couldn't refuse to go down and see him because that would be susipcious. 

"Well, Gabe, his plan is that he's going to be bait for Sam. I'm meant to get Sam into the trap somehow and then perform an exorcism on them both. Then I'll get Crowley's vessel out of the trap and he'll come back to claim it. Sam, on the other hand, will be back to himself, mostly," I say. Gabriel scowls. "That's close enough to my own plan," he mutters under his breath, displeased that an archangel and a demon though similarly. I refrain from rolling my eyes again. "Well, what was yours?" I ask, my lips curling up in the smallest smile. 

"In mine, you were going to be bait. Bound and gagged in a way you could get out easily while making it look like you're struggling. He can't just leave you there because that'll raise suspicions. Once he unties you, get out of the trap. Make sure you don't mess it up. He won't know what hit him until then. He'll get pissed, or rather, the demon will, and you can perform your exorcism," he tells me, looking self-satisfied. I bite my lip. Gabriel's plan is slightly better. "What's my excuse for behind bound and gagged?" I ask. Just then, from across the room, Erin's gaze meets mine. "Me," she says, causing Dean to jump. He hadn't noticed her there, but upon looking he immediately switched his gaze to the floor. 

"That's really good. We don't really know you, so it's plausable. What's your reason for tying me up?" I ask, stifiling a smile. "I could be working for Abbadon. Don't look so shocked, you've all mentioned her before. Since I'm a human, the devil's trap won't be deterimental to me," she suggests. I nod enthusastically. "Perfect. We need to tell Crowley," I reply, a smile brightening my face. I stand, one hand on the small of my back, one hand pushing me up off of the couch. Dean stood up awkwardly. "I'll, um, go with you," he murmurs, his cheecks turning slightly pink. I know it's at least a little difficult for him to be in the same room as his ex and someone he had a one-night stand with. I've been in similiar situations. I nod, but before I get halfway to the door Castiel shoots to his feet and grabs Dean's wrist, forcing Dean to face him. I turn and tense up, ready for some sort of epic fight. 

Instead, Castiel pulls Dean into a kiss. I can see that, at first, Dean's shocked, but after a few seconds he relaxes and kisses Castiel back for all he's worth.


	26. A Perfect Execution

The next morning I was shaken awake rather early by Erin. Still tired and halfway to sleep, I half-heartedly pulled on some clothes, not even paying attention to what I was putting on until afterwards. I'd grabbed one of Sam's plaid flannel shirts. I inhaled his scent without thinking, and for some unexplicable reason I wanted to cry. 

But I didn't. I gritted my teeth, let Erin put light makeup on that made me look like I was bruised from a scuffle. Then she lead me down the stairs and tied me up loosely in the middle of a large devil's trap before leaving me alone. I wasn't entirely alone, I knew Crowley was there, but he was invisible, and he'd leave as soon as I got out of the trap. He was only there to make sure Sam fell for the trap. 

Within twenty minutes, everyone was hidden away where Sam wouldn't find them. Especially Erin. It was vital that she stayed hidden until Sam was himself again. In another five, the Impala pulled up outside bunker. My eyes were puffy from crying, and somehow the makeup hadn't smudged a bit. But down there alone, I just couldn't stop the waterworks. And this time Crowley stayed hidden so he didn't help me. 

It only took Sam three minutes to get down to the devil's trap in the basement. I screamed his name, although it was muffled by the gag. Without stopping or slowing down, he ran directly into the trap, and very gently pulled the gag down so I could talk. I let out a deep breath that borderlined a sob. "Oh, Sam! I'm so glad you found me," I whimpered as he cupped my face with one hand. "What happened?" he asked. 

"It was Erin," I say softly, brokenly. Sam swears, and steps back slightly, running his hand through his hair. I untied the bonds around my wrists and watched him. "I knew we shouldn't have trusted her," he mutters, moving towards me again. At the exact moment that he starts towards me, I jump up and out of the trap, making sure not to scuff it. He freezes and glares at me. In that moment, I know for sure that he isn't Sammy. 

"Get out of him," I hiss, clenching my fists. He smirks, his eyes turning black. "He won't want you anymore, darling," he says, a sickening smirk curling the corners of his mouth up. "That doesn't matter," I say, swallowing heavily. Before giving the demon a chance to respond, I open my mouth and recite the exorcism. Hissing, he jerks around before finally falling on his knees. His head throws back and black smoke pours out of him and Sam collaspes on the ground. 

I fell to my knees because my legs weren't able to support me anymore, my breathing shaky and unstable. Although I couldn't believe it had worked so perfectly, I was relieved. However, the demon had gotten into my head.

I wondered if Sam would still want me.


	27. The Aftermath is Secondary

I don't know how long I knelt there on the cold concrete floor of the basement, but it was long enough to make my knees ache. Even then, I didn't move until Sam did. The moment he moved, starting to sit up, groaning; I scrambled over to him on my hands and knees, even though my legs were so stiff I could barely move them. "Sammy," I say softly. I move behind him, supporting his weight in my lap as groans and brings a hand to his head. My hair's falling over my shoulders and nearly brushing his face, but I don't care. I just want to make sure he's okay. "Sammy," I say again, a hint of desperation creeping into my tone. 

His brown eyes blink open. "Callie? What the hell's happened?" he croaks. I almost burst into tears at the utter confusion on his face. "It's a long story," I mumble. He blinks, staring up at me with his warm brown eyes. "I have time," he tells me. With a small, sad smile, I launch into the story. I don't know when exactly he was possessed, and he hadn't known that was why he was lying in the middle of a devil's trap with me hovering over him worriedly. The first time through, I only told him the bare minimum, leaving out most of the details. 

As I brought my hand up to brush his hair out of his face absentmindedly, he noticed the ring. "You've got a ring," he says quietly. I suck in a breath and my throat aches with tears I refuse to shed. "Yes, that's part of the story. I wanted to get the main parts down first. See, after you got possessed, you got me pregnant. I'm eleven weeks along now, with twins. And, uh, you asked me to marry you. I thought it was you, so accepted. You can, uh, have the ring back if you want," I say mechanically, blinking to clear my watery eyes. Pushing up off of me, Sam sits bolt upright. Even I can see what a mistake that is as he moans and holds his head in his hands. 

"You're telling me that I finally got you, but it wasn't even me?" he asks, incredulous. I nod, letting out a shaky breath. "I understand if you want the ring back," I mumble. If I spoke up I knew my voice would crack and I'd start to cry. Even now, I couldn't handle that. Sam closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before leaning over and cupping my face in his hands, his thumb idly tracing patterns on my cheeks. Looking into my eyes, he holds this pose for a moment before leaning in and kissing me. I'd expected it to be a hard, rough kiss the second I saw him moving closer, but it wasn't. It was gentle and sweet and told me everything I wanted Sam to say. 

When he pulled back, we were both smiling softly. "I'll keep you, if you'll still have me," he says. I close my eyes and take a deep breath in. "Of course," I whisper, "of course." He leans in and kisses me again, and while we're kissing I hear the door open and people enter, but I don't care. I'm lost in the moment of one of Sam's real kisses. The second I've ever experianced. So we only break apart when Dean clears his throat. "You did good today, kid," he tells me gruffly, pulling me to my feet and then turning to help Sam up. Sam's already standing though. "Let's go get something to eat," Dean mutters, turning and walking out, ushering everyone else out. Sam and I are the last to leave. As we walk out the door, he leans over to me. "What made you decide to exorcise me yourself?" he asks. 

I look into his eyes and reach out and take his hand. "The aftermath is secondary," I tell him.


End file.
